Inglourious Retribution
by Mad Hatter - J
Summary: After witnessing the death of her grandparents at the hands of notorious SS officer, Hans Landa, Elsie Marigold swears revenge. Rescued by a peculiar band of American soldiers, she soon finds vengeance well within her reach. (Donny x OC x Hugo) *Undergoing rewrites*
1. Chapter 1: Villa-ins and Interrogations

**A/N:** This story was written a long time ago, and since the closure of Quizilla, the site it was originally posted on, it sat in my folders gathering virtual dust. I decided I'd really like to bring it back out. The story is completed, but may take some time to edit and post.

 **Edit** : This chapter has been gutted and rewritten, as will the rest of the story. Any feedback would be really helpful.

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Villa-ins and Interrogations**

In this chapter:

· A Nazi Officer

· A hidden Jewish family

· A first kill

· An apple tree

* * *

"Parlez-vous français?"

"I prefer English, if that's okay."

"Of course. I appreciate your manners. It makes this whole process so much easier."

Elsie glared at the relatively short man seated across from her at her grandparents' spacious, pinewood dining table. She had been sitting in that exact spot only hours earlier enjoying breakfast with her two relatives as they discussed their plans for the day. The German soldiers had arrived just before noon, pulling into the French villa's horseshoe-shaped driveway before briefly surveying the property from their vehicles.

Elsie had been out reading on the second-story patio when the approaching roar of the motorcycles had disrupted her peace. She had placed her book on the table beside her and gotten to her feet to peer out over the ledge, unintentionally locking eyes with the important-looking man who stepped out of the car below – the same man who now sat across from her. Her grandfather had greeted their guests with his hunting rifle, ignoring his wife's protests as he stalked down the front steps towards them. The weapon was promptly - and forcibly - removed from his possession. Elsie had looked on as one of the soldiers slammed the butt of the rifle into the back of her grandfather's head, driving him to his knees before the smiling Nazi officer. This moment seemed to set the tone for the rest of the visit. The two uniformed motorcyclists had escorted her grandparents into a different part of the house, while their commanding officer remained behind to question the youngest member of the family. The moment he had spotted her wary expression looking down at him from the balcony, he had decided she would be the easiest person to help confirm the rumors he had been hearing.

And he loved rumors.

"How can I help you, Detective...?"

"Colonel, actually. Though one could see how you might make such an assumption," he replied with a friendly smile, motioning to the leather-bound notebook open on the table in front of him.

Elsie returned the smile and gave a small nod, feigning politeness, hoping that her co-operation might keep both her and her grandparents alive. The Nazis had invaded France in 1939 and had occupied the area for four years now, but until this day, they had never troubled the Marigolds. She had no idea what reasons they had to question her.

"At the risk of sounding narcissistic, Miss Marigold, might I ask if by chance you have heard of me?"

"I haven't, no."

He seemed disappointed by this reply.

"But surely you have heard of the clean-up currently being undertaken by the Gestapo and SS?"

"Clean-up?" she frowned.

He stared at her as though she were a dullard, and she quickly replied, "I've heard a lot about the German army and their, uh, exploits. I've just never heard it put quite that way."

His expression of disdain melted back into one of friendly reassurance.

"You're quite right. Cleansing might be the better word for it. As they say, 'It's a dirty job, but somebody has to do it'," he chuckled.

"And what does this 'cleansing' entail exactly?" Elsie asked. She knew exactly what it entailed, but she had never had the misfortune of being face to face with one the men responsible. She wanted to hear it in his own words; how he justified an ideology that called for the murder of millions.

"To put it quite simply, we are eradicating the Jewish populace. Now, what does this mean for a young woman such as yourself? Well, nothing because you are not Jewish. However, I do have reason to believe that your grandparents are currently harboring a Jewish family in this very house."

He tapped the table with his index finger, emphasizing the last three words, and then looked to Elsie for a reaction. She simply stared at him, brow furrowed.

"Would it be correct to assume that you are not aware of any such family?"

She didn't reply right away, her mind whirring as she tried to process this accusation. She was well aware that her grandparents were strong opposers of the German invasion and the Nazi philosophies it entailed, having often caught snippets of their hushed conversations when they thought she wasn't around. They had tried their best to keep her in the dark about the horrible atrocities being committed across Europe, but Elsie had always been a curious girl and she had her own ways of obtaining information. There were plenty of people in the nearby town willing to talk. Listening to the Colonel speak now and the casual way he condemned an entire race of people to their deaths, she felt anger boil in the pit of her stomach.

"Have you been down to the wine cellar lately?" he went on in a conversational tone.

She fought to maintain her composure, aware of what was now at stake. "I don't tend to drink the stuff."

"But your grandparents, do they not enjoy a glass from their own extensive selection from time to time?"

She grit her teeth and forced a polite smile once more.

"I think they may have been waiting for them to reach their vintage ages."

This time Landa smiled, but the sparkle of humor had left his eyes. He took out a pen from his inside jacket pocket and ran a finger down the list of names written on the page in front of him, stopping as he found the right ones.

"Your name is Elsie Marigold, correct?"

"It is."

"And you've been living in France for how long?"

"Seven years."

"With your grandparents?"

"Oui. Yes."

"And your parents?"

She paused a moment and he caught a brief flicker of remembered grief.

"My father died when I was five from a war related illness. My mother died when I was fourteen from pneumonia."

"Your father served in the Great War?" Landa asked with interest.

"Yes. Maybe you saw him. He would have been one of the men shooting at you from the opposite trench."

She immediately regretted this sudden slip her act, silently scolding herself; though she was amused by his sudden look of surprise. For a moment her smile became genuine.

The Colonel had underestimated her character. She was no simple, innocent French country girl, though she played the part well. She was not even French, as he could tell from her French-inflected American accent. Letting the inappropriate comment slip, he went on:

"Miss Marigold, you seem to be under the impression that we are something of an enemy to you. I can assure you that this is not the case. Simply tell me what I wish to know, and my men and I will be on our way. Your co-operation is all we require."

But her co-operation was not something he was going to get.

"You Germans really like starting wars, don't you?"

He sighed and replaced the cap on his pen, setting in down on the table.

"We did not initiate the Great War. I believe it was a Serbian nationalist who can claim that feat. We merely remained loyal to our allies. Allies which did not happen to include America. Or France."

"But you did start this one," she pointed out.

"Tell me, Miss Marigold," the Colonel began, shifting his position slightly in his chair, "Would you not fight to save those that you love? The country whose blood runs through your very veins? I am not here as your enemy, I am merely trying to improve the lives of my fellow countrymen."

"I'm not sure if you noticed, but you seem to have crossed over your border. Your fellow countrymen are hundreds of miles away."

Landa stared at her, unamused, and though her heart was pounding and her stomach was fraught with nerves, she stared right back at him.

"You know, Miss Marigold, I am rather thirsty," he said, putting a hand to his throat to indicate this, "and seeing as you are yet to offer me a drink, would you mind if I were to peruse your wine collection. I'm quite fond of the white, myself."

Before she could reply or make a move, his expression grew dark and lost all charm. With a quick hand signal, four of his soldiers marched down the marble hallway towards the entrance to the wine cellar. Elsie waited with bated breath. The sound of squeaking hinges issued from the soldiers' position as they pulled back the heavy wooden doors that led to the underground storage room, their footsteps echoing as they descended.

"I wonder what they might find for me down there," Landa said with mock curiosity.

Elsie was wondering the same thing. She had no knowledge of this family she was supposedly harboring, but she knew that if her grandparents had been presented with the opportunity to help someone in need, they would have gladly taken it. There were a few silent moments when she thought the soldiers might not find anything; that perhaps the Colonel had been mistaken and the rumors he had heard had been wrong. But that thought was soon driven from her mind as yelling and screaming issued from below.

A single soldier ran back into the room to reveal their findings, stopping beside the Colonel and bending down to speak to him in German.

"Sir, we have them."

Landa turned in his seat, eerily relaxed.

"How many?"

"Two men, two children, a woman and infant, and an elderly woman."

Landa turned back to Elsie looking very pleased with himself. He gave a short sigh and stood up, straightening his already immaculate uniform and replacing his hat. He took out his handgun from its side holster, spun the cylinder and then snapped it back into place with a flick of his wrist.

"A man's work is never done," he said, turning to make his way towards the cellar. He called over his shoulder, "Viktor, watch the girl until I return.

His driver gave an obedient nod, standing at attention just behind her.

Elsie strummed her fingertips against the hardwood tabletop as she began to calculate her escape. She could try to save the family below, who had obviously meant something to her grandparents if they were willing to risk their lives to keep them in the villa, but she had no weapons; nothing to fight off the four armed men.

From the corner of her eye she could see the last remaining solider. His holster just happened to be on the side facing her. She smiled, weighing up the odds of her new plan. Pretending to stare up at the ceiling, she caught a glimpse of the man who had been ordered to guard her. He was quite young, possibly a new recruit. Perhaps it was his first major outing with the Colonel. Either way, he appeared far too distracted to pose much of a problem for her.

 _Okay_ , she thought to herself, _so I grab the gun, shoot the soldier, run for the cellar, take down the Colonel and his henchmen and lead the family out_. It sounded easy enough in her head, but it was the execution of it that was really going to test her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

A hand shot out and grabbed the sidearm. The soldier spun around, eyes wide, and saw the girl leaning back, sideways, on her chair, his own gun aimed right between his eyes. One quick shot and he was on the ground.

Elsie winced, waiting for the echo, but it never came. Looking at the weapon, she found a silencing device screwed to the end of it. The Nazis had come meaning business. Staring at the weapon in awe, Elsie quickly brought her focus back to the plan. She stood up and crept towards the cellar door situated on the floor towards the back of the house. The patio doors were open, offering sweeping views of the Marigolds' apple orchard and the hills beyond it. She paused for a moment and drew a breath of the fresh, country air to ease her nerves, then walked towards the gaping mouth of the basement. Stifled shots sounded from below.

Feeling sick but thinking fast, she mourned her failed plan and the lost lives below, and slowly stepped away from the cellar door. They would be coming up the stairs any minute now, unless they took the time to dispose of the bodies, but she didn't want to think about that right now.

"You two, go get the girl and bring her down here. We may as well put them all together before we burn this place down."

The Colonel had practically made the decision for her, but she had to find her grandparents first. She walked passed the open patio doors, froze, then took a step back. Two shapes lay out on the grass, liquid red mixing with the lush green. She stepped out towards them and stifled a surprised sob as she confirmed what she had already guessed.

It had been a game the whole time - the Colonel had never intended to let her go, regardless of what she said. She squeezed her eyes closed for a brief moment, holding back tears, then heard footsteps behind her. She made a run for it. If she could find a tree with branches low enough to climb, she might just have a chance. Perhaps the soldiers would think she had escaped into the nearby woods. Or they might search every tree until they found her. She had no other choice.

Stepping through the back doorway, Colonel Landa watched the young woman run. He was about to reach for his pistol but hesitated, then placed his hand back by his side.

"Sir, shall I go after her?" one of his two remaining men asked behind him. The Colonel could have shot her from where he stood, but he didn't see the point. Yes, she had killed one of his men, but then he had never been particularly fond of Viktor. The boy was clumsy and stupid; the girl had done him a favor. It was a shame he'd had to execute her grandparents like that, but then they had been harboring enemies of the state. He considered his man's question, then shook his head.

"No. Leave her. She's no threat to us."

He turned back into the house and disappeared, taking the four soldiers with him.

Balanced on a thick branch, Elsie watched, crying, as her home of seven years exploded in a burst of flames and spent lives.

Silently, she swore revenge.


	2. Chapter 2: Operation Henker

**Chapter 2: Operation Henker**

In this chapter:

· Some Basterds

· A new recruit

* * *

"A'right men, we got us a mission. Seems an American's gone and got 'erself marooned somewhere out in the goddamn French countryside, so we're gon' go see if we can't help her out some."

Normally, Donny wouldn't question his lieutenant, but this objective seemed a little odd. He had become accustomed to their usual routine, and that had only ever involved one thing and one thing only: killing Nazis.

"So we're going to rescue this fuckin' damsel in distress?"

"Not just any damsel," Lt. Aldo Raine corrected him in his rolling Southern drawl, "She's American, she's alone and she also happens to be the daughter of an ol' friend o' mine. Oh, and the Germans have taken to calling her 'Henker'."

"Henker?" Donny asked, frowning at the foreign word.

"Wilhelm?" Aldo called to his interpreter.

The Austrian-born soldier glanced up from cleaning his weapon and replied, "Executioner."

"Why the fuck are they calling her that?" Donny asked, suddenly more interested.

"'Parently she's killed a heck of a lotta Nazi's. But I ain't one to go on word o' mouth alone, so I figured we head on down there and find out fer ourselves."

* * *

A few days after the massacre at the Marigold place, it became apparent to Colonel Landa that the girl he had left back in the orchard was more of a threat than he had first considered. Word had gotten back to him that a squad of German soldiers had disappeared whilst passing through that particular stretch of French countryside, and that the subsequent squads sent out to investigate were never heard from again. The situation had escalated into such an embarrassing fiasco that the German command - at least those who knew of the Marigold incident - stopped sending their troops altogether. If word reached the enemy of a lone woman in a tree besting the trained men of the German military, they would be the laughing stock of the European theater.

After seeing her grandparents' lifeless bodies sprawled and bleeding on the grass, and hearing the murders of seven innocent people, a dark rage had awoken in Elsie. Armed with the pistol of the first soldier she had killed, she took out the patrol who had simply been passing through, then claimed each of their weapons too. Hanging loaded machine guns from a strategic selection of trees, she proceeded to wipe out the ensuing squads who actually had been sent to find and kill her. Fueled by the adrenaline of the successful firefight, she had cut off one of the Nazi's heads and stuck it on a wooden pole out the front of the burnt remains of the villa as a warning to any other Nazis who were looking to meet the same fate. And it seemed to work; no other patrols came through and she began to find herself wishing for the sound of German voices and their soft but audible footsteps as they attempted to sneak up on her. She had almost come to expect the Nazi soldiers, but she was not expecting the group that came into the orchard that afternoon.

* * *

The first sign of 'Henker' that the Basterds discovered was the grisly signpost she had placed out the front of the burnt-out building. The severed head, complete with Nazi helmet, was a clear indication of what they were dealing with.

Aldo glanced at his sergeant, who was looking a little more enthusiastic now that he had seen their 'damsel's work, then looked back at his men. They were observing the head with a mixture of alarm and admiration. Aldo led the way towards the orchard and came to a halt at what had once been the patio doors, surveying the cluster of trees beyond. Looking down, he became momentarily distracted by a square shaped cavern, staring down into its blackened staircase, before turning to face the group once more.

"A'right, word is that she's holed up in one of these here trees," he motioned towards the vast orchard, "So to make this a quick and relatively smooth process, ya'll are gonna be splittin' into pairs."

The men looked around at each other and then back at their lieutenant.

"By the looks o' things, there ain't gon' be any Nazis left 'live out there, so no need to have yer weapons out. Speak Anglish, 'specially if yer American born. A familiar accent might make 'er come lookin' for us, which'd make this a helluva lot easier. A'right, get movin'."

Aldo remained where he was, where he had a view of the entire orchard, while the soldiers paired off and moved out to began their search. The information he had to go on was largely based on rumors; romanticized stories of a woman spurned by a German-lover, seeking revenge on the entire German army. Another he had heard was that she was a lone resistance fighter, the sole survivor after a Nazi massacre. That one seemed to have the most truth to it. He couldn't imagine little Elsie Marigold taking a German soldier to bed, though he was sure she had grown into a fine, young woman since he had last seen her seven years earlier; the teary-eyed teenager waving goodbye as she boarded the boat for France. He would have gladly taken her in himself if he'd had the room and the money; but feeding his own family had been proving difficult enough at that time. The solution came when her grandparents offered for her to come and live with them at the villa. He had been hesitant at first; the only memories he had of Europe were of fighting alongside Elsie's father during the Battle of St. Mihiel and in the Argonne forest. He had always held onto a little bit of guilt for not being able to raise her himself. He had already been on his way when the orders had been passed down for a search and rescue. Watching his men search the area now, he could only hope that the girl was still alive and well.

* * *

From her place in the tree Elsie heard people talking, but couldn't make out the words; unable to tell if they were German or other. Fallen twigs snapped under the feet of those approaching. She frowned. The Germans were usually more careful than that. She listened harder for the voices. To her surprise one voice sounded German, but the other was distinctly American. Had the war come to an end while she had been sitting up in her tree?

The voices came closer. She could understand them now.

"You think she's around here?" the American voice asked.

They were looking for her. She didn't know whether to jump down or wait. It could be a trap.

"Lieutenant Raine says she is, but if I were her I would have moved on by now. The Nazis woulda learned to stay away. It'd get boring," the American voice spoke again.

Lieutenant Raine. She knew that name. Aldo. It had to be.

She shook a tree branch ever so slightly to get the attention of the passing soldiers. The German voice hushed the American one just as he began speaking again. The taller of the two looked up and spotted a face peering down at them. He gave a sort of half-smile at the girl to show that they were friendly.

"Looking for me?" she asked, her accent immediately striking him as odd.

"You're the only woman we've come across sitting up in a tree, so unless there are others around, I suppose we are," he replied.

She chuckled and began climbing down. Reaching the lowest branch, Elsie looked around for another foothold, but couldn't see one. The German-sounding soldier offered his hand and, with a smile, she allowed him to help her down.

She looked like hell. The clothes she had been wearing at the time of the interrogation - a tan-colored sundress - had not fared well over her week-long stay in the branches. Torn in some places, and splattered with blood and dirt in others, she certainly wouldn't be winning any beauty contests any time soon. She had been able to wash somewhat in the small creek that ran through the back of the property, but she had never allowed herself long on the off-chance of a sudden Nazi ambush. Nonetheless, brief form of washing had made her feel better, if only to get the Nazi blood off of her hands and arms.

"You mentioned a Lieutenant Raine?" she said to them, adjusting the strap of the machine gun that hung from her shoulder.

The soldier nodded.

"Aldo Raine?"

He nodded again. "He sent us out to look for you. Didn't give us a name though."

She smiled and introduced herself, holding out a dirty hand, "Elsie."

"Wilhelm," the man with the accent introduced, as he shook it, "And this is Hirschberg."

The shorter of the pair gave a nod.

"I was a little confused at first," she explained, "Because of your accent. German?"

"Austrian," he replied, before adding, "Originally."

She nodded, now recognizing the source, and then went on, "So, how do you let Aldo know–"

"WE'VE GOT HER!" Hirschberg shouted, cutting her off. He looked back at her and offered a reassuring smile.

The air was starting to get cold as night approached. Wilhelm looked at Elsie and her torn dress, and passed his gun to Hirschberg, taking off his coat and draping it over her shoulders. She was grateful for the warmth and felt a little more decent in front of the men; one of the sleeves of the dress had torn completely so that it hung down, showing more skin than she was comfortable with.

Heavy footsteps approached from the row of trees to their right. The three turned to see who it was. An enormous man emerged, glancing left and right, before spotting them. He was thick with muscle and looked like he could just about rip one of the trees out by the roots if he wanted to.

"Donny, where are the others?" Hirschberg asked, as the large man came towards them.

"How the fuck should I know?" he replied with a heavy Boston accent. He hadn't taken his eyes off of the girl. He looked her over for any visible injuries as he reached the two soldiers, and then glanced back up to meet her deep-green eyes. The greasy locks of hair that framed her grimy face looked auburn colored, but that could have been the blood in it, if there was any; he couldn't tell just from looking at her, but there was certainly enough splattered on her clothes to suggest it.

"Can you walk?" he asked.

"Sure," she replied.

"Alright, then let's go," he told them.

Wilhelm and Hirschberg marched ahead as their sergeant walked beside their acquired target.

"Sergeant Donny Donowitz," he introduced.

"Elsie Marigold," she replied.

"Marigold?"

"Yeah. Like the flower. Everyone seems to think it means I'm bright and cheerful."

"They wouldn't if they came for a stroll through here," Donny told her. He had come across a lot of bodies scattered throughout the trees; all Nazis, of course, and all in various stages of decomposition. "Nice job, though."

A week ago she would have been horrified at the idea of taking a human life, but after everything she had been through she took his words as a compliment. As they reached the spot where Aldo was standing, the other soldiers already there with him, the group of four came to a halt. Aldo smiled down at her in his odd half-frowning kind of way.

"Well, Elsie, you look a helluva lot older than when I last saw ya."

"I would hope so, since I was, what, thirteen going on fourteen?" she replied.

The soldiers behind him were observing her with interest, as was Donny from beside her. They hadn't seen a woman for months.

"Yeehh-p, yer a big girl now. Not so bad at killin' Nazis, either, which is why I got a proposition for ya," Aldo told her, stepping forward and putting an arm around her shoulder, glancing down at the machine gun by her hip. He led her towards the front of the estate, stepping through the blackened ruins of what had once been her home.

"I like what you've done with the place," he began.

Elsie glanced down at the ashes around her feet and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Nah, I don't mean this," he said, kicking a burnt piece of timber, "I'm talkin' 'bout the redecoratin' you've been doin'. It shows real courage, independence..."

He stopped at the severed head by the front entrance and took his arm off her shoulders. He glanced at the head, then at the beheader and continued, "But most of all you've shown that you got real potential."

"Potential for what?" she asked as she turned to him.

Glancing at the group of men behind her, she saw they were all smiling at their lieutenant. They seemed to agree.

"Nazi-killin'," Aldo said simply.

"I hadn't realized it had become a sport already," she joked. A couple of the soldiers chuckled.

"Oh, it has," Aldo said with earnest, "And you happen to be lookin' at the best damn team in the league."

"What's your proposition then, Lieutenant?"

"How would you like to be a Basterd?" he asked her.

"According to the Nazis I killed, I'm already a bitch," she replied. There was more laughter behind her.

"Is that a yes?"

Looking at the familiar face of her old family friend, and the encouraging faces of his men behind him, she could think of worse options than joining a team that specialized in the extermination of Nazi soldiers. She gave him a nod.

"Yes, sir."

"You'll be a soldier yet, Marigold."

She winced at how absurd her surname sounded in the context.

"One thing, though, sir."

"What's that?" Aldo asked her.

"Could you call me something other than 'Marigold'? It just doesn't sound right."

"How's 'bout the name the Germans've christened you?"

She was unaware of this development.

"What are they calling me?"

"Henker."

She smiled. She could understand German, and she liked the sound of that.


	3. Chapter 3: Basterds and a Bear Jew

**Chapter 3:** **Basterds** **and a Bear Jew**

In this Chapter:

· An abandoned country house

· Introductions

· Donny

* * *

The house that the Basterds were squatting in was an abandoned country home a few miles from the Marigold place. It had felt like such a long walk to Elsie, whose diet for the past week had consisted solely of river water and apples. She never wanted to see another apple again. As she began to lag behind, Donny had taken it upon himself to offer to carry her, the small smile on his face showing he was only joking if she thought he was. She had declined, but hadn't been able to keep from returning the smile.

The men were now spread out in the living room and kitchen, some scouring the place for any food besides their rations, while Elsie scouted out the tiny bathroom and it's even smaller bathtub. The place still had running water at least. That was a miracle in itself.

While she quickly bathed in the tepid water, there was a knock at the door.

"Uh..." she began, not sure what to say.

"I found some clothes in the bedroom. Thought you might need some," Donny said, from the other side of the door.

"Oh. Thanks. Just, uh, pass them through."

He stuck his arm in the room and she saw that he was covering his eyes with his free hand.

"I ain't lookin', I swear," he told her.

"I can see that," she smiled. She stood up and grabbed the piece of cloth she had decided would work as a makeshift towel, wrapping it around herself. She took the clothes from Donny and pushed gently against the door to close it.

"Alright, I'm goin', I'm goin'," he told her, taking the hint.

"Oh wait," she said, recalling her borrowed jacket, "Can you give this back to Wilhelm? Tell him I said 'Danke'."

"Tell him you said 'donkey'?"

"Never mind."

Donny left her to get dressed while he moved back into living room. He threw the jacket to Wilhelm and attempted to relay Elsie's message.

"She said to say 'dunk-something'?"

"Danke," Wilhelm guessed as he took a swig from the bottle of wine he had discovered in the kitchen cupboard, "She knows German."

"Why the fuck would she need to know German for?" Donny asked as he sat down heavily in an armchair.

"It came in handy when I was yelling insults at the Nazis," a voice answered.

All of the men turned their heads to see Elsie standing in the doorway. She was dressed in the items Donny had passed through: a long-sleeved, cream-colored cotton shirt, dark brown pants and a light brown woolen coat; all of which were men's clothes. They were loose on her, but the leather belt helped some with that. Apparently the farmer who had owned the house had not been married, so the men's ensemble would have to make do. It was warm at least, and that's all that really mattered to her in the cool, evening air, though her wet and washed hair wasn't helping much. She was taken aback by the sudden amount attention, glancing from face to face until she spotted the open bottle of wine. She wasn't much of a drinker, as she had informed Colonel Landa, but she felt that considering the circumstances, she could allow herself a mouthful or two. Following her gaze, Wilhelm passed her the bottle before relaxing back into the sagging sofa and lighting up a cigarette. The other soldiers continued to watch as she drank, and only broke their gaze when Aldo walked into the room.

"A'right, let's eat," he said.

* * *

The Basterds rarely ever sat down to eat together; they either ate on the move, or wherever they happened to collapse at the time. But in light of their newest member, Aldo thought it might be best to ease her into things.

The lieutenant sat at the head of the table; Elsie to his left and Donny to his right. Elsie sat beside a man who had introduced himself as Smithson Utivich. He now looked incredibly uneasy in her presence. Glancing around the table, Elsie realized that nearly all the soldiers carried the same expression, with the exception of Aldo and Wilhelm, who was calmly smoking at the other end of the table. She also realized that if she didn't say something soon, this was how they would always be around her.

"Will someone please fucking say something?" she finally said, emphasizing the curse word to assure them that they didn't have to hold back in front of her; there really didn't seem any point in manners. It was as if the entire room let out a breath of relief and the tension seemed to dissipate.

"Oh, thank fuck!" Donny cried. Sitting in the unbearable silence, he had been hoping for someone to break it before he would have to. Silence wasn't the Bostonian's strong point.

Elsie knew that the others were trying to be gentlemen in her presence, but she couldn't stand it. This was a group of men; a group of _soldiers_ for crying out loud! If they weren't swearing at each, reminiscing about Nazis they had killed, or even throwing her the occasional lecherous stare, they just weren't soldiers. These boys weren't in their element right now, but they could at least not feel like they were going to offend her by being themselves.

"Now, 'fore we start eatin'," Aldo began, a number of spoons clattering back down beside bowls, "I'd like to introduce ya 'round. These are the men yer gon' be fightin' alongside, it's best ya get ta know 'em. Ya already know Donny, here."

The Boston-born Basterd smiled, a playful glint in his eye.

"Next ta him ya got Privates Michael Zimmerman and Simon Sackowitz."

Zimmerman gave a polite nod, while Sackowitz gave a little wave.

"Then ya got Private Hirschberg on the end there."

"Gerold," the shortest Basterd told her, and she smiled.

Aldo shot him a look for interrupting then said, "And ya know Corporal Wicki down there."

Wilhelm gave a nod of acknowledgment, blowing smoke out the side of his mouth. Elsie watched, momentarily transfixed by the man's intense gaze.

"Next ta him's Private Omar Ulmar."

Elsie furrowed her brow as she tried to repeat the name, "Omar Ulmar?"

"It's a mouthful," the owner agreed with a shrug, "Just call me Omar."

"Then Private Andy Kagan," Aldo continued, "And you know Utivich, so that's about it. Questions?"

Elsie glanced around at each of the men once more, paused, then said, "What exactly _are_ you boys, anyway?"

"We're all Jewish and we're all mad as fuck," Donny answered.

Elsie looked at Aldo. As far as she knew, he wasn't Jewish.

"I put this group together as a type o' guerrilla outfit. We basically just move from town to town, wipin' out all the krauts," Aldo explained.

"You don't work on orders?"

He cocked his head, "Not exactly."

The Basterds quickly began to look more relaxed, chatter gradually picking up in volume now that they could enjoy their meal (if that's what you'd call the stale portions of bread and questionable looking soup).

"Where're you from?" Utivich asked from beside her.

"Can't you tell?" she asked. He paused for a moment to attempt a guess, but gave up and shook his head.

"Louisiana," she replied.

"That's what it is!" Donny said, through a mouthful of bread

"What 'what' is?"

He swallowed what was in his mouth. "That weird fuckin' accent. It makes sense now."

"I'm half Cajun," she told them, "It's sort of why I ended up in France after my folks passed."

Aldo glanced at her as she said this, but remained silent, listening in to the conversations around him.

"I've never heard that accent before, either," Wilhelm admitted, "It threw me off a bit when you were calling down from the tree."

"Please never mention that tree again," Elsie groaned. She had pulled out a lot of splinters in the bathtub.

Wilhelm chuckled at her grimace, but his input into the conversation had jogged Donny's memory. He had a question he'd been meaning to ask her from earlier:

"Why _do_ you know German, by the way?"

"I picked it up. It comes in handy nowadays."

Donny glared at her suspiciously for a moment, "You're not a kraut in disguise, are you?"

She stared at him. "If I was, why would I say 'yes'?"

"She's got a point," Utivich agreed.

"Ya'll have gone from thirteen goin' on fourteen, goin' on to Nazism?" Aldo asked, wiping his mouth on a napkin.

"I'd rather die," Elsie scowled, "Which I guess is the right answer if I'm going to take you up on your offer. So where do I sign up?"

"That's what I want to hear," Aldo said, slapping her proudly on the back, causing her to choke on her mouthful of bread. The boys laughed.

Though admittedly impressed by the girl's ability to wipe out several squads of German troops on her own, Donny still had his reservations.

"Whaddya know about guns?" he asked her.

"They kill people," Elsie answered.

Donny smiled and replied sarcastically, "Well, ain't you just a bucket o' laughs."

"You asked."

"You know how to fire one?"

She threw him a look. He had, after all, just walked through a field full of answers to that question.

"You know how to bludgeon a guy to death?" Donny asked with a dangerous glint in his eye and a small half-smile. Now he had her attention.

"That I don't know," she replied.

"Do you know how to scalp a guy?" Kagan asked from the other end of the table. The men had fallen silent as they listened in.

But Kagan's question had thrown her.

"No…but I'm a willing pupil. Now that I think of it, it can't be much harder than beheading a man. I just have to take a little less off the top."

There was another round of laughter and Donny looked to his lieutenant. Aldo gave him a brief nod as though he had just proven a point, and the sergeant smirked. He had been a little skeptical about bringing a woman on board, but this one continued to surprise him.

* * *

When it came time for them to hit the hay, everyone looked for a spot to call their own. Aldo had already sanctioned himself the small bed in the house, which he had first offered to Elsie. She refused, not wanting to be treated any better than the others, thus earning even more points with the men.

She moved around the house to find somewhere else. The floor would be fine; hell, anywhere was better than a damn tree. Donny had claimed the long couch, Wilhelm was on the armchair and the others were spread around on the floor, most of them already asleep. Despite feeling sore and exhausted, Elsie knew she would have trouble getting to sleep; the image of her dead grandparents burned into her memory, ready to be relived the second she closed her eyes. She sat down in front of the small, lit fireplace with her knees pulled up to her chest, careful not to wake Hirschberg, who lay nearby.

Deep in thought, she didn't hear Donny get up from the couch and sit down beside her. She was staring into the fire, watching the flames dance over the burning wood, reminded of the smoldering wreck that had once been her home. Donny waited quietly for her to speak; a rare gesture from the otherwise rowdy man. If it had been any of the men, he would've told them to 'lay the fuck down and sleep'.

When her eyes finally did flick up to meet his, she forced the corner of her mouth up into a lopsided smile, but she didn't look very happy.

"You weren't alone out there, were ya?" he asked.

"No. My grandparents...the Nazis executed them. But there were others," Elsie responded.

Donny frowned, but didn't need to ask for her to clarify.

"They were hiding a Jewish family in the wine cellar. That's why those fucking evil pricks came to my house. They were looking for them. I didn't even know that they were down there. My grandparents never told me."

In the light of the fire, he could see her eyes grow shiny with tears.

"What'd they do to 'em?"

Elsie went on to relay the story of the massacre. She told him about her escape; how she had tried to help the family, but had been too late, then finished with the destruction of the villa. All the meanwhile, Donny's eyes had grown darker and darker. He hadn't needed any more reasons to kill Nazis, but the family had been innocent. They'd had a baby with them, for fuck's sake. And Elsie's grandparents had been murdered; guilty of helping a fellow human in their time of need.

He stood up and walked away, returning moments later with something in his hand: a baseball bat. Donny sat down again and passed it to her. In the light of the fire, Elsie could see markings carved into the wood. They were names. She ran her finger over the indentations.

"They're the names of all the Jewish families from back home. I told them that if they got family over here, they should sign it. I use it to beat in the heads of any Nazis I come across. And it's seen a good share of beatings," he explained, his voice soft but edged with a deep-burning hatred. He paused, gazing at the bat in Elsie's hands, and then ran his fingers over it slowly, as though caressing it.

"You know how the Germans call you the Executioner? They call me The Bear Jew."

He smiled. He was quite fond of his title. Elsie could see why the Germans would call him that. He looked even more enormous from this proximity. He was built like a large, well-muscled bear; his arms, and what she could see of his chest, covered in thick, dark hair. He looked over at her and saw that she was admiring him. Realizing that she had been caught, she quickly looked away, her flushed cheeks only just visible in the firelight. He smirked.

"Here," he said. He passed her a pocket knife.

"Is there some sort of blood-initiation ceremony that I'm not aware of?" she joked.

"I thought you might wanna carve your grandparents names onto there."

"But they weren't Jewish."

"I'll make an exception for ya."

Holding the knife ever so delicately, she proceeded to carve a single name into the wood:

 ** _MARIGOLD_**

She took her time, thinking of her grandparents and the family they had been protecting for so long. When she was finally done, she passed the bat and the knife back to their owner, who waited patiently beside her. He looked down at the carving and nodded.

The following day he would break in the new addition, dirtying it up with the blood of a Nazi – paying tribute to the people who had lost their lives on the orders of Colonel Hans Landa.


	4. Chapter 4: An Outing with Aldo

**Chapter 4: An Outing with Aldo**

In this Chapter:

· A Basterd's idea of entertainment

· 12/100 scalps

· Swastika marks the spot

· A French Milkmaid

* * *

Watching Donny bash in the head of a Nazi soldier was a new experience for Elsie. She wasn't sure whether to be horrified, entertained or enthralled by the massive soldier, but what concerned her more was how much she got off on it; not the killing of another human being, but seeing Donny unleash his rage on the German captain, his huge muscles pounding away, slick with sweat and blood.

Utivich walked up beside her and followed her gaze before turning back to address her, "You said you wanted to learn, right?"

"Yeah," she replied, slowly tearing her eyes away from the savage sergeant.

"Well, now that you're one of us, you're indebted to Lieutenant Raine."

Elsie frowned.

"One hundred scalps," he told her. He took out his knife and gestured for her to follow him. She did so, following his example and taking out her own knife; a gift from Aldo. Utivich led her over to the bodies of the Nazi patrol they had just annihilated, squatting down next to one and taking the soldier's head by the hair. He began slicing through the man's scalp, beginning at the top of the forehead. Elsie stared, wide-eyed, and then winced. She wasn't sure she could do this. Utivich glanced up to see why she wasn't joining him, and caught her expression.

"It's alright," he reassured her, "It gets a little easier each time. This is my seventy-third."

He continued what he was doing with an expression so calm he might have been peeling a potato, rather than a human head. Elsie got down on one knee beside the closest body; one she actually recalled had been her kill. She had killed three men altogether, that day; she only owed Aldo ninety-seven more. She watched Utivich, observing his technique, before she raised the head of her own dead Nazi and got to work. It was not a pleasant experience. Decapitating the Nazi soldier in the orchard had been clean, easy work. She had discovered her grandfather's axe resting up against the chopping block by his small garden shed - the only structure still standing on the property - and the business had been over and done with in one quick chop of the sharp blade. Scalping was a far more intimate undertaking.

When she was done, she glanced around to see where the others had gotten to. Donny was standing over the demolished body of his victim, watching her with a curious smile. It was almost as if he was proud to see her taking part in the tradition. She stood up, tossing the third and final scalp away, and then moved to join him, her hands coated in Nazi blood. The others were sitting around smoking, chatting and eating, but at that moment Elsie didn't feel much like doing either of the three, still trying to forget the sensation of peeling skin from bone.

Aldo stood apart from the group with Wilhelm, Hirschberg, and the only Nazi they had left alive. Spotting Elsie, the lieutenant waved her over. She threw Donny a look of uncertainty and he gestured with his bloodied bat for her to go ahead. She complied, and he followed behind with a knowing smirk. This was his second favorite part of the proceedings; watching his lieutenant work his sharp brush over a living canvas.

"Now, I'd say you've become fairly well acquainted with the way we run things," Aldo said to her, receiving a nod of agreement, "but there's one more thang ya gotta witness before you become a true Basterd."

A glimpse at the German prisoner told Elsie that even _he_ knew what was coming next. Aldo removed his Bowie knife from its sheath and gave a nod to Hirschberg and Donny, who stepped in to hold the man still. From behind the trembling figure, Wilhelm gazed calmly at Elsie. He had his gun pointed at the prisoner in case he decided to make a run for it, but with both Donny and Hirschberg gripping him tightly by the arms, she found it unlikely that he would even try.

Aldo took hold of the top of the man's head and, with a steady hand, began to carve into his forehead. The man started screaming, twisting around in the hands of his captors. Elsie's eyes widened, but only Wilhelm noticed; the others too engrossed in what their lieutenant was doing.

When he was done, Aldo turned to face the young woman behind him, wiping the blood off his knife with a handkerchief.

"That way everyone will know what he is, even when this shitstorm's over."

The two Basterds let go of the man and he fell to the ground weeping, muttering in almost indiscernible German. Elsie managed to pick out the words 'God' and 'kill', not really sure if he was thanking God for letting him live, or if he was cursing the men who had done this to him and his friends. Aldo took a sniff of the powder tobacco in his snuff box and began to walk away.

"So you just let him go?" Elsie asked him.

"Gotta leave someone to spread the word o' our work," Aldo replied. The Basterds began picking up their weapons and bags, preparing to move out. Elsie cast a frown down at the man writhing on the ground and Donny put a hand on her shoulder.

"Aw, he'll be alright," he told her with mock-concern, giving the Nazi a couple of hard kick in the ribs, "Won't ya, ya piece o' shit?"

Elsie knew she would have to get used to this ruthless style of killing. When she had killed the soldiers in her orchard, it had been because her life was in danger. The head on the pole had seemed kind of amusing at the time, but watching Aldo cut open a man's head while the man was still conscious had proven almost too much for her to witness.

 _Fuck it_ , she thought to herself, _These Nazi fucks deserve whatever they get._

She smiled to herself. Now she was thinking more like a Basterd.

"What are you smiling about?" Donny asked her as they started down the trail, catching her expression.

They were now making their way through the surrounding woods, heading for a small village that lay just beyond the hills.

"Nothing."

"A minute ago you looked like you were gonna puke and pass out, or at least give that Nazi a hug and tell him 'everything's gonna be fine'," he joked.

Elsie glared at him, which only made his smirk widen.

"I was _not_ going to pass out," she told him indignantly, "and I certainly wasn't going to reach out to that fuckin' guy."

"She scalped three guys," Utivich said, coming to her defense.

"Yeah. Thanks Utivich." She turned her head to the soldier behind her and gave him a grateful nod.

"So the fuck what? Most of us have scalped more than our hundred," Donny addressed them both with an air of complete condescension.

Elsie scowled. "You've had a bit of a head start. It's my first day, asshole."

Donny grinned, amused by how much he was offending her. He turned to look at her again but she had officially withdrawn herself from any further conversation, glaring ahead with with her jaw set in determination.

When they reached the town outskirts, they crouched down and took their time to determine what they were walking into. They had always maintained the gung-ho approach to their work, but they weren't complete idiots.

Zimmerman and Sackowitz soon returned from a brief scouting mission, relaying their findings to Aldo.

"We've got a patrol of about nine men situated in the town square. I think that 'cos this is such a small town, that's all they left to hold it," Sackowitz told him. Aldo nodded.

"Well, prolly that and the one we already took out," the lieutenant reasoned, and the Basterds laughed. "This should be easy. One o' us to each o' theirs. A'right, we're gon' go down there, spread out a bit, and take 'em out on my signal," he ordered, "Move out."

They crept down the hill and stretched out across the town's small border, taking cover behind walls and buildings. They didn't have to go very far to find the town center. From his position, Donny could see both the Nazi soldiers, and Aldo, who was standing against the wall of the building ahead from him. Aldo peered around the corner to get a look at the enemy, then turned back to take a sniff of his snuff powder. Placing the tin back in his pocket, he jumped as gunfire erupted from the courtyard. He looked to Donny and found his sergeant grinning as he looked on. Elsie appeared to have taken great offence to his teasing.

She had been watching the German soldiers from her position beside a burnt out bakery, a block or so away from Donny and Aldo, reminding herself to wait for the lieutenant's signal; but the anger in the pit of her belly took hold. Just as the group of soldiers around the fountain began to laugh at a joke one of them had made, she stepped out, gun blazing.

 _Fuck you, Donowitz_.

And unlike Aldo seemed intent on doing, she didn't leave any of them alive to tell the tale.

The Basterds stepped out one-by-one from their hiding places, looking to their lieutenant, cautiously impressed. She had broken orders, after all. Aldo came towards her with his hands on his hips, looking at the bodies that lay in and around the fountain that was now spurting red water. Behind him, Donny walked up to the scene with a grin. Elsie looked over at him, slinging her gun over her shoulder, and suppressed her own smile. She shifted her gaze back to the fountain. Just as Hirschberg took out his knife to scalp one of the soldiers, Elsie pulled out her own, pointing it at him in an accusatory manner.

"Hey! These ones are mine."

Risking a quick glance at Aldo to see if he was annoyed at her disobeying his orders, Elsie saw him smiling at her like a proud dad. Hirschberg returned his knife to his belt reluctantly. It would have raised his tally to seventy-six.

* * *

They remained in the town that night and, just as Sackowitz had predicted, the Nazis didn't seem to care a great deal about this small piece of land; no counter-attack came to run them out. Most of them spent the night in the towns abandoned bar, swigging from bottles of wine, whiskey and gin, while others relaxed in any space they could find.

Elsie had discovered a pond towards the back of the town and had taken a seat on the grass near its shore. There was still some light left in the sky as the day turned from late noon to dusk. The air was beginning to cool, but Elsie felt content in her woolen coat. She was exhausted after bringing her tally up to twelve, but she wasn't sure if she would be able to sleep after everything she had witnessed so far.

Just as she lay back to rest her eyes, feeling herself being lulled to sleep by the sound of crickets and the occasional call of a frog, she heard the grass behind her rustle as someone approached. She turned to see Wilhelm standing a few feet away, gazing off across the water. She sat back up. Of all the Basterds, she had to admit she found this one to be the most enigmatic; he had a sense of mystery about him that she found intriguing. She had watched him slit a man's throat that day without him so much as batting an eyelid, his signature cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. Her mother had always told her it was the quiet ones you had to look out for.

"Nice spot you've found here," he commented.

"It's quiet."

"Is that your way of telling me to leave?" he chuckled.

She smiled, "Have a seat, if you like."

He did so, sitting down beside her, still looking out across the pond.

"You seemed a little...uneasy, about how we do things."

"It's not something you can get used to in one day, I guess," she admitted.

"That's fine. You probably think we are all a bunch of barbarians," he smiled, "but if you saw it from where we stand..."

He was referring, of course, to the fact that she wasn't Jewish.

"Oh, they deserve it," she said quickly, "I know exactly where you guys are coming from. I just think that, for one second back there, I may have glimpsed something human in that guy's eyes; the one that Aldo sliced up."

"Of course. Despite what some of the others would have you believe, these _are_ people we're killing. Just inhuman people. Or should I say, inhumane?" he chuckled to himself, blowing smoke from the side of his mouth. "Even if some of them object to the Nazi ideologies, they still make the choice to put that uniform on every morning, to go outside and kill innocent people. They don't fight against the oppressors."

Elsie nodded, appreciating his point of view, glad to have an expanding concept of everything that was going around her.

More footsteps approached and Elsie looked around, greeted by Donny, who was now clad in a big leather coat but missing his gun and bat. Wilhelm stood and bid her farewell, accepting the grateful nod from his sergeant as he headed back to the small room he had claimed for night.

Donny took his spot next to the auburn-haired Basterd. They sat in silence for a while, silently daring each other to be the first to speak. In the end, as was his nature, it was Donny.

"I thought they ran all the frogs out of this town," he joked, as croaks sounded around them. Elsie stared out at the water, unimpressed.

"Alright, I take back what I said," he told her.

She looked at him with a soft smile.

"You're not gonna cry are ya?" he mocked and she gave a deep sigh.

"You really are an asshole."

He was silent for a while, and when she looked at him once more, she realized he was holding back a laugh.

"What's so funny?" she asked suspiciously.

He shook his head 'nothing', but the smirk playing on his lips said otherwise. Wilhelm returned a moment later to tell her that the lieutenant wanted to speak with her. Donny followed close behind, the smirk lingering on his face the entire way.

* * *

Aldo was waiting in a study, the only source of light that of the candles scattered around the room. He gestured for her to approach and she did so, feeling more and more wary by the second.

"We found some intel on one o' them krauts you put down today. Seems we got us a big outpost not far from 'ere," he began, "Should take a few days ta reach it, but we need us a plan to kill every one of them Nazi fucks that're holed up there. Now, when it comes to shit like this, we like ta get a lil' creative. Keeps up the morale an' whatnot."

Elsie nodded slowly, waiting for the blow to come.

"I saw today that ya ain't afraid to take matters inna yer own hands, and ya did a heck of a job on them soldiers by the fountain, so I was thinkin' you could go in there as a decoy. Donny?"

 _Here comes the catch_ , she thought as Donny tossed something to the lieutenant.

"Yer gonna need ta employ some actin' skills on this one, but I think you can handle it," Aldo said confidently, tipping her a wink.

He presented her with the object Donny had given him and she looked at him to see if he was joking. He wasn't.

It was a milkmaid outfit.

"I figure ya dress like a pretty lil' French country girl in trouble, ya gain their trust. Then you blow their fuckin' brains out," Aldo said.

He was smiling as if he thought it was a great idea. Glancing at Donny she caught the glint in his eyes. She wondered if the outfit had been his idea. The longer she glared at the enormous man, the more his smirk seemed to widen. The corner of his mouth was twitching as he held back his laughter in front of his commanding officer.

"You don't gotta put it on now, obviously," Aldo told her, "But whatta ya reckon? Feelin' upto it?"

With a deep breath, she nodded.

"A'right then," Aldo grinned, "Looks like we got ourselves a party."


	5. Chapter 5: When a Problem Comes Along

**Chapter 5: When a Problem Comes Along...**

In this chapter:

· Some effective acting

· Another Nazi officer

· Torture

· An ex-Nazi

· Imprisonment

* * *

It took almost five days to reach the proposed destination. The outpost bordered on the edge of an abandoned town, so the Basterds had quietly slipped into one of the furthermost buildings to get themselves organised.

Elsie was standing rather reluctantly in one of the bedrooms, dressed in the milkmaid outfit. With its revealing neckline it screamed one thing: Got Milk?

She looked at herself in the cracked, full-length mirror that the room had to offer, and made a face; she looked like a whore - which she guessed was what they were going for. She covered her eyes with one hand, wondering why the hell she had agree to this, when there was a knock at the door.

Donny popped his head through and gave an appreciative whistle, taking her in. He bit his lip and nodded.

"Yeah, that'll do it," he said, his Boston accent clinging heavily to the 'yeah'.

"For you?" she joked unhappily.

"No fuckin' question," he grinned, before catching her downcast expression, "What's the matter?"

"Aside from the fact that I look like I whore?"

"You're supposed to."

"I thought I was going for 'milkmaid'."

"That too," he said, looking her up and down once more.

The dress pushed her breasts up and out and cinched in at the waist, flowing out to her knees. Her auburn hair was pulled back and styled in the classic milkmaid braid. She looked the part, at least.

"Where am I putting the gun?"

She looked down at the dress and saw no solution to the problem. She was going to have to strap it to her thigh.

"Do you have a holster or something I can borrow?"

Donny was still staring. She sighed and took a few steps closer.

"Yeah, they're called breasts, now would you listen?"

She snapped her fingers in front of his face and he smirked. A piece of hair came loose from her braid and he reached up, brushing it behind her ear.

She glared, "Don't even try it, pal."

But the flush that crept up her neck and onto her face gave her away. Feeling cornered, she moved past him and out through the door, hoping to avoid any further awkwardness. She failed to take into account the other Basterds, who sat waiting in the adjoining room. The reaction was instantaneous. Silent, staring and startled. Wide-eyed, Elsie took a deep breath and nodded awkwardly at them, attempting to lean nonchalantly against the wall.

Aldo walked in then and approached her. He looked her up and down in the same business-like way he would when inspecting a soldier's uniform, and gave a curt nod.

"A'right, then. Ready to do this?"

"I need a holster," she said, gesturing with her handgun.

"Thought you might." He threw one to her and she quickly tied it to her thigh, trying her best not to show any more skin than necessary.

"Need help with that?" Donny asked. She flipped him off.

Just when she thought that her outfit was complete, Aldo was ready to give it the final touch. Elsie hadn't seen the headless chicken he held dangling by its feet, and failed to notice him pass it to Utivich. What she did notice was Donny take a sudden step backwards, before Aldo ordered Utivich to,"Let 'er 'ave it'".

Utivich made a slicing motion through the air just as Elsie turned, blood splurting from the dead animal's neck and spraying across her dress, chest and face. She froze, scrunching up her face in surprise, and then slowly opened her eyes, hoping he was done. As the blood dripped down her face and along her neck, she slowly nodded in accepted defeat.

Of course he had just thrown chicken blood on her. Why wouldn't he have?

"Finishing touch?" she asked, flicking away a warm droplet from under her eye.

Utivich gave her an apologetic shrug and threw the dead animal at Hirschberg, who caught it with a laugh before tossing it at an unimpressed Kagan.

"You're a regular Jackson Pollock," Elsie told the offending Basterd, trying not to sound as annoyed as she felt.

"Yer outfit's gotta be as believable as yer actin'," Aldo told her, "You tell them Nazis that you just came from yer Hitler-supportin' household and that some 'Merican soldiers are after ya. Call 'em yer saviors or whatever. Anythin' that'll make 'em think they're protectin' you. Ya know what to do after that."

The cold steel of that next step sat against her thigh as a reminder.

"Ya got this one," Aldo assured her, and the Basterds nodded in agreement.

* * *

It was mid-afternoon by the time Elsie was in place. She could hear voices - German voices - just beyond the trees. She had been instructed to speak German, rather than French, in order to more quickly gain their trust. Putting her hands on her hips, she put her head back and sighed deeply, psyching herself up for the task ahead. Donny seemed to find something funny about this, laughing from his hiding place among the trees. She shot him a look.

Taking some water from the canteen by her feet, Elsie flicked the liquid onto her face to give the appearance of tears, then she took off running. She began sobbing, gasping as she ran towards the enemy soldiers. They looked around in alarm, raising their guns, but as soon as they saw the distressed young woman they dropped their guard.

"Thank goodness," she cried out in German, grabbing the arm of a bewildered Nazi sergeant and cowering behind him.

"What are you doing?" one of the other soldiers asked.

"The soldiers! They killed my family, the filthy American scum. Help me! Please!"

She pointed in the general direction of the forest. If the plan worked, the Nazi soldiers would move to search the area, where they would meet their end at the hands of the awaiting Basterds. One of the men became momentarily distracted by her trembling breasts until their leader, a lieutenant, called for him and the others to go and investigate. The men obeyed while he remained behind. He glanced back at Elsie, who gave a grateful smile, then turned back to ensure that his men were not met with any trouble. Elsie slid her gun from its holster and fired into his head. Just as his soldiers turned to see what was happening, the Basterds emerged; cutting throats and blasting bodies. Letting go of the man whose throat he had just slashed, Aldo called out to her.

"Go 'round that buildin' over there, will ya? Make sure we ain't in for any surprises."

Elsie nodded, still smiling from her success, and left them to it.

Looking around the side of the old, brick structure Aldo had been referring to, she found the area clear. She turned to call back to him, but froze as she felt cold metal press into the back of her head.

" _Ja_ , you know what that is," a German accent told her.

 _Shit_.

The German put an arm around her neck and began pulling her backwards. With a gun to her head, Elsie could only comply. She was now out of the view of the Basterds. The man pulled the gun from her hand and tossed it away, then a black-bag was placed over her head and her hands were bound behind her back, all without her ever seeing the face of the perpetrator. She was thrown into the back of a car, clambering to sit up as she heard the driver get in. Breathing heavily, she began wishing like hell that she would hear the sound of a baseball bat cracking a skull. But the sound never came. She was alone with a Nazi who had just witnessed her betray his men.

* * *

After hours of darkness, Elsie finally sensed light. It wasn't natural light, but it was still something. The car rolled to a stop and she heard the driver get out, then felt a rush of cool air as both passenger doors were thrown open. Someone grabbed her by the legs and pulled her out. She kicked out at them, and the person waiting on the other side managed to catch her by the arms. Seconds later she was out, barefoot on the cobblestone ground. She tried to look bold, standing tall and steadying her breathing, but as the black bag was whipped off her head, her eyes widened in surprise. The man before her smiled, enjoying the look of fear. It was immediately obvious to her that he was an important man; with his detailed, black officer's uniform and telltale hat. Elsie fought to keep her expression indifferent, but couldn't deny the fact that this man looked truly terrible. She was certain that his rank could not have been attributed to his altruism.

" _Henker,"_ he greeted with a smug look, pulling a bloodied strand of hair back from her face. She flinched away from him, but the guards held her tight. "We finally meet. Wünderbar."

He glanced at the two men either side of her and ordered them to take her inside. Eyes wide, watching the officer light up a cigarette, Elsie felt scared for the first times in weeks.

* * *

In the early morning light, Elsie observed her surroundings. Constructed mainly of brick and metal, the building she was being held in was less than inviting; much like the behavior of her captors. She was certain that she had been taken to some sort of German-controlled prison; at least that's the feeling she got from the vertical metal bars that caged her in and the uniformed guards standing around outside. She had not slept during the night, and now sat with her back against the cold, stone wall; legs stretched out before her on the dirt floor. She looked down at her feet, which were covered in mud and dried blood, and wiggled her freezing toes. When she glanced up again, she found herself looking at her kidnapper. In the natural light she could see him more clearly and, while he wasn't unattractive, she caught the cruel glint in his eyes. She noted the blonde hair beneath his hat; it seemed to be a common feature among the Nazi officers. He stood before her, lighting up a cigarette, and began speaking without so much as glancing in her direction, paying more attention to the object in his hand.

"I presume you've come to realize that you're in a prison," he said in his native tongue, "This is generally where we bring prisoners to be punished for their crimes against the state. Or to be tortured for information."

He said this without expression and motioned with his cigarette-holding hand to the general area. His eyes flicked towards her to see how this last little detail sat with her, but she was doing well to maintain her cold stare. He smiled.

"I am Major Dieter Hellstrom. As luck would have it I was on my way here to make an inspection when I ran into you. It must have been fate."

Elsie begged to differ.

He tapped his cigarette and took another drag.

"I've asked the guards to bring you into the interrogation room. I would very much like to speak with you about the things I've been hearing..."

He left this statement open and purposely vague. Two guards stepped up beside him and looked in at her.

"Do you really need two?" she asked, speaking German.

"Ah, she speaks at last," Hellstrom smiled, ignoring her question.

He had a similar air to him as Landa; with their polite, friendly facade. But this man couldn't hide the mad glint in his eyes. One of the guards opened her cell and both of them stepped in to grab her. She was led to a small, dimly lit room that was occupied only by a table and two chairs. Hellstrom took the seat facing the doorway, while Elsie was pushed into the chair opposite him. He observed her with his light blue eyes. The man was Hitler's wet dream.

"Wait outside," he told the guards.

They left, closing the door behind them. Elsie glanced around at them as they went, and then turned to face the Nazi in front of her. She was still in the same outfit that she had been abducted in, much to her own disgust. She tugged at the neckline to cover herself more, but this only seemed to amuse him. He took off his hat and placed it on the table, proceeding to light up another cigarette.

"Do you always dress as a whore?"

Elsie stared at his newly-exposed forehead, wondering how it would look with a swastika carved into it.

"No, not usually." She gave a thin-lipped smile to show how little his question had impressed her.

"I would think not. From what I've heard, you've earned your little nickname from the German army, _Henker_. But surprisingly you don't look like much. In fact, I doubt you've accomplished half of what they say you have. Compared to some of the other prisoners who have passed through here, you're really nothing special."

"So why take me?"

"It's not your reputation that interests me, Miss Marigold," he said, his eyes trailing suggestively down her neck and chest as he sucked on his cigarette, "so much as the crowd you run with these days. The Basterds?"

Trying not to appear too surprised by the fact that he knew her name, she said, "Basterds?"

"Don't play stupid. Unless, of course, you aren't playing," he smirked, "You know where they are and you're going to tell me."

She scoffed, unable to maintain her aloof behavior any longer. Not only had he just ridiculed her, but now he expected her to betray her friends.

"Nein," she said simply. Then he smiled, and she felt some of her confidence falter.

"I'm glad to hear you say that. I've been waiting for an opportunity to witness how they break their prisoners here."

The smile fell from Elsie's face.

"Garde!"

The two men re-entered the room.

"Our little friend here has decided she will not talk."

The guards understood perfectly. Grabbing her roughly by the arms, they dragged her out of the room. On their way through, they passed another cell. The man inside it glanced up briefly and caught sight of Elsie. His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. She was willing to bet that he had seen his fair share of whatever treatment she was about to receive.

* * *

The basement below the prison was set up for the 'management' of its prisoners. Whips hung from hooks along the wall, with knives laid out on a table beside a handgun - for the particularly hardened prisoners. While one of the guards took Elsie towards a wooden pole that stood in the center of the room, the other decided which whip to use. Elsie's hands were bound once more and raised above her head, while the rope was tied to a hook. Unable to move, with her back to the men, she felt increasingly vulnerable. Spikes of fear shot through her body, but she grit her teeth. She would rather endure the lashings than give her friends away.

She was unable to withhold a gasp of surprise, as one of the guards cut open her dress using one of the knives from the table. They tore it completely open, leaving her bare from the waist up. Smoking another cigarette, Hellstrom gave a little chuckle as she hugged the pole to hide her nakedness from their leering eyes. She was so concerned with maintaining her dignity, that she didn't hear the guard step up behind her.

CRACK!

She screamed as the long leather whip sliced across her back and around her side. She felt a warm trickle of blood on her skin. Clenching her jaw, she received five more lashings, swallowing any further noise. She refused to give them the satisfaction.

Then Hellstrom stepped in.

"Give me the whip," he ordered, cigarette dangling from him lip, sounding displeased with her sudden silence.

The guard passed it to him obediently.

"Now, Elsie, are you going to tell me what I want to hear?"

He stood directly behind her as he asked this, running his leather-gloved hand over the bloodied skin of her back.

"Fuck you, you Nazi-fuck," she told him in English, sickened by his proximity and his touch.

"Not very nice language for a young lady," he whispered in her ear, his breath warm against her bare skin.

He stepped away and she braced herself for the pain. It came a second later, then six times after that. Her back felt raw and unbearably painful. She would have collapsed were it not for the ropes forcing her to remain on her feet.

"Bring Stiglitz down here," Hellstrom ordered one of the men, "I might as well make the most of my visit."

The prisoner Elsie had locked eyes with earlier was brought down the stairs shackled and shirtless, with three guards surrounding him. She risked a glance over her shoulder to see what was happening. Despite the man being secured in chains, the guards were keeping their weapons trained firmly on him; this one was a high-risk prisoner. He was tied to the opposite side of the pole, carefully averting his eyes from Elsie's bare chest. She was grateful for the gesture. She had lost enough dignity as it was.

Hellstrom gave Elsie one last lash before approaching the newcomer.

"How has your stay been, pig?" Hellstrom asked him.

There was no reply.

Stiglitz looked Elsie in the eye, their faces close; his stony expression gave her some reassurance. His gaze didn't break when Hellstrom gave the first lash. He barely flinched, but he clenched his jaw tightly. Hellstrom tried many more times, apparently waiting for some sort of reaction, but he did not receive it. Stiglitz wasn't giving in, either.

"Leave us," Hellstrom ordered the guards.

When it was just the three of them left in the basement, Hellstrom moved towards Elsie. Using one of the knives, he cut her dress the rest of the way down. The clothing fell to the ground around her feet. Elsie stood only in her underwear, but Hellstrom soon cut through that, too. She pressed herself closer to the pole, trying desperately to distance herself from the Nazi officer, while Stiglitz glared at him, fury swarming in his eyes.

Hellstrom was too preoccupied with the sight of Elsie's body to notice the other prisoner pulling against his restraints. Stiglitz managed to get one hand free and, just as the Nazi officer stepped forward, his intentions clear, he moved around the pole and slugged the man in the face.

"GARDE!" Hellstrom shouted, rubbing his jaw.

The men reappeared to take Stiglitz away, glancing from the now-naked girl to their major, but saying nothing. Stiglitz struggled against them, but the four men managed to drag him back up to his cell.

Hellstrom returned to his position behind Elsie, who was breathing unsteadily, and grabbed her hips.

"I'm going to make you scream one way or the other," he assured her, kissing along her neck. He tossed his hat on the table of knives and pulled her away from the pole. It was then that she lost her composure, breaking into silent sobs.

Using one hand to keep her still and the other to undo the buckle of his belt, Elsie now had no doubt in her mind what he was planning. She willed herself to pass out.

But she was awake through it all.

* * *

When she was finally thrown back into her cell, naked and numb, a guard came by to toss some dirty clothes at her. She looked down at the filthy, long-sleeved shirt, and the pair of torn grey pants. She didn't care what they were. Anything was better than that dress.

She sat silent in her prison cell, day after day enduring more lashings and ridicule from the guards.

On the second day, Major Hellstrom had informed her, almost regretfully, that he was leaving for business elsewhere. But that hadn't stopped him having one last goodbye with her in the basement. She had wanted to curl up on the floor and stay there, but she knew she had to remain strong. She managed to glimpse Stiglitz every day when she passed his cell on the way to the whip, and each time he gave her a sullen nod; a reminder that she wasn't alone.

And every time she was returned to her cold, stone cell she would sit and wait, hoping for the Basterds to show up.

She didn't have to wait long.


	6. Chapter 6: Operation Henker Vol2

**Chapter 6: Operation Henker Vol.2**

In this chapter:

· A breakout

· Some concern

· Hugo

* * *

On the day the Basterds arrived, Elsie was pacing in her cell; a pastime she had taken to quite frequently. Another pastime she had taken up was smoking; something she had never been keen on before. But in her current position, it seemed as good a time as any to start.

She had received the first cigarette from the only other prisoner she had seen in the building; the man she knew only as Stiglitz. He had tossed it through the bars of her cell without the guard noticing as he was being led past one day. After picking it up off the ground, Elsie had realized that she had no way of lighting it. The solution to this problem presented itself the following day; Stiglitz was taken past once more, and this time tossed her a book of matches. She had stared at the item in wonder, then at him in a similar manner as a playful smile crossed his face. He was one of the only things keeping her sane. That, and the thought of the Basterds breaking her out.

* * *

Donny was absolutely reeling.

It had been almost a week since he had watched Elsie fool the patrol of German soldiers into believing that she was the innocent victim of an American rampage. When she hadn't returned to report to Lieutenant Raine, they had known something was awry. Donny had been first on the scene, finding absolutely no trace of his missing friend. It was Wilhelm who had picked up her gun from the side of the road. Wherever she was, Elsie was unarmed.

The Basterds had proceeded to track the unknown vehicle that they assumed had taken their comrade away. It wasn't too much of a long shot, since there weren't many cars passing through the area nowadays. It was the best they had to go on.

After a few days, they had finally stumbled across the German facility in the woods; the location alone raising suspicion as to what lay within. German soldiers patrolled the outer entrances and more were bound to be inside. They took out the surrounding guards as silently as their knives would allow them, and moved in.

Passing a cluster of trashcans, Donny spotted a familiar piece of fabric hanging out the side. It was Elsie's dress; the last article of clothing she had been wearing when she had disappeared. When he saw the condition it was in, Donny felt rage well up inside him. But there was something else, too: guilt. The whole idiotic escapade had, for the most part, been his idea. It was supposed to be a gag, that was all; something for them to laugh about over a drink once it was done. It wasn't supposed to turn out like this.

Nearby, he watched as Wilhelm slashed the throat of an unsuspecting guard, who gave a choke of surprise. The corporal was his usual mix of calm and collected, ready to complete the job at hand. Donny, however, did not feel anywhere close to calm. Taking out his sawed-off shotgun, he blasted the next guard off of their feet.

Taking Donny's disruptive behavior as a signal, Hirschberg ran across the length of the prison, firing his machine gun at anything that moved; so long as it was wearing a German uniform.

While Hirschberg had his fun, Donny looked for Elsie. The first couple of cells he came across were empty. The next cell was not. The young woman inside was pacing up and down the length of the small, barred-in space, smoking a cigarette. Her wavy, red hair hung loosely around her shoulders, adding to her already-disheveled appearance. But what concerned him the most were the blood stains across her back, soaked through the fabric of her filthy shirt.

As she turned to pace in the opposite direction, Elsie came to a halt, staring at the Basterd before her without emotion. She blew smoke from the corner of her mouth but didn't speak. She had dark circles around her eyes from a continued lack of sleep, but that wasn't the only thing that Donny noticed about her. Something had happened to Elsie; somewhere deep down, part of her mind had snapped.

This wasn't the same girl who had left him back in the woods.

They stood in silence for a moments before Utivich approached the cell carrying a set of keys. He tossed them to Donny, who caught them easily, but neither of the men were able to take their eyes off of the woman behind bars. Fumbling through the keys, Donny found one that looked like it would fit the cell door. It didn't. He tried again, this time with more success. He pulled the door open and Elsie stepped out. He would've given anything for her to have thanked him and hugged him at that moment; to just take her in his arms and make sure she was alright. But she simply nodded - first to him, then to Utivich.

"Do you have a gun I can use?" she asked. Donny passed her his shotgun and took the machine gun from around his back.

Aldo approached the group through the walkway across from them. He passed Elsie his water canteen, a thought that had never crossed Donny's mind since he was so concerned about the state she was in. While she drank, Aldo gave Elsie a brief once over glance to determine her condition. Catching sight of the blood across her back, he touched her on the shoulder to turn her around for a better look, but she flinched away. She stared down at the canteen in her hands.

"Just...Don't."

Aldo nodded with a heavy frown. He glanced at Donny who was carrying a similar expression. Passing back his canteen and stamping out her cigarette with her bare heel, Elsie finally looked up at the lieutenant. He glanced down at foot, disturbed by the behavior, then passed her the pair of boots she had left behind.

"You know a guy in 'ere named Stiglitz?" he asked her softly, as she pulled them on.

She nodded.

"I've been hearin' a lot about 'im and the things he's been up to. How would you feel about takin' him with us?"

Elsie nodded again. She had intended to, anyway.

* * *

Stiglitz was sitting in his cell, calmly smoking a cigarette, his hands still in their shackles. Of course, he had heard the commotion around the prison, but paid no attention to it, waiting for the source to present itself. Moments later it did. A group of armed men stepped out from their positions around the prison and came to a halt in front of his cell.

He noticed Elsie standing to the left, next to the largest of the men, and saw that she was now armed and at ease. He observed the men with the same emotionless expression he usually wore, and waited for them to offer an explanation. Another man stepped through the center of the gathering, over the body of a dead Nazi. He appeared to be the leader.

"Sergeant Hugo Stiglitz?" he asked.

Stiglitz gave an almost imperceptible nod.

"Lieutenant Aldo Raine," he introduced, "And these're the Basterds. Ever heard o' us?"

Another nod.

"I just wanna say, we're a big fan o' yer work, and when it comes to killin' Nazis-"

As if on cue, one of the guards gave a groan as he lay dying on the ground. Without taking her eyes off of Hugo, Elsie shot the man dead. Aldo looked across at her, and then turned his attention back to the other prisoner, approaching his cell and resting casually against the bars.

"I think you show great talent," he continued, "and I pride myself with havin' an eye fer that kind o' talent. But yer status as a Nazi killer is still amateur. We've come to see if ya wanna go pro."

Aldo gave the prisoner a sly smile at almost the exact moment Elsie did. Glancing briefly at the only woman in the group, Stiglitz looked back at the lieutenant and gave his third and final nod.

* * *

That night they took shelter in an empty village, putting as much distance as they could between themselves and the German prison before nightfall. Within the eerie little town, they found rooms that appeared to have been hastily abandoned by their previous occupants; food and clothes left behind. The building itself was a single story establishment that had likely served as an inn, but it offered them soft beds, running water and a roof over their heads; rare luxuries that they were grateful for.

Elsie hadn't spoken much more than 'yes' or 'no' since they had broken her out, and as Donny sat beside her now on the lawn in front of the inn, he waited impatiently for her to confide in him. But still she didn't speak.

"Else," he began, but he couldn't find the right words.

She was sitting almost close enough to be resting against him, and turned her head to offer a small, though reassuring smile.

"I knew you guys were coming," she told him, "but I need to ask, what the hell took you so long?"

He didn't really have a good answer for that.

"Believe me, if there'd have been some other way to get to ya faster, I woulda taken it in a second."

She smiled again, but lapsed into a sudden dark thought.

He finally worked up the nerve to ask as gently as possible what he really wanted to know: "What'd they do to ya?"

She was still for a moment, lost in thought, then replied: "They wanted me to give away your location. So I told them to go fuck themselves." They shared a chuckle at this, but the amusement died from Donny's face as she finished, "Then I got taken down to the basement and...I got a pretty decent lashing for that. So that went on for a few days. But now here I am. Safe and back with my boys."

Donny stared at her, once again not sure how to respond. He wondered if he had been the one to kill the man that had tortured her. Elsie kept the worst of her experience to herself, deciding now wasn't the time to tell him, (if ever there would be a time). And the perpetrator was still out there somewhere. She shivered at the thought, before getting to her feet and brushing herself down.

"Well, I'm going to go and find the nearest bath, because I don't know about you, but I feel like I've been dragged through a hedge backwards."

At that, she moved off towards her room, with Donny staring after her in concern.

* * *

Elsie had found herself in a room that was situated between Hugo's and Donny's. Though she was yet to have really spoken to Stiglitz since their escape, she did feel a sort of mutual understanding between them after their shared experiences, as well as the extent to which they would talk about those experiences. In Hugo's case, this was 'not at all'.

As she waited for the hot water to fill the bath, she sat down with her back against the wall and suddenly felt incredibly filthy. She had been allowed the briefest of showers at the prison, but wasn't able to wash herself as much as she would have liked. And the guards had never bothered to turn away. She felt like scrubbing herself raw.

And that was when the flashbacks started.

Without warning, she started crying. Hugging herself tightly, she fought the urge to vomit, and stood up to turn off the tap. Sliding into the bath, her body still shaking with the occasional sob, she hissed as the water touched the wounds across her back. She couldn't bring herself to look at them in the mirror yet to see the damage, but she could already tell it wasn't going to be good.

She changed her position from sitting to kneeling, and realized that there was no chance she was going to be able to force herself to scrub her back. But considering how many backs that whip had probably seen before hers, she knew it was either put up with the pain or risk potential infection. Her mind numb with pain and grief, she climbed out of the tub, put a towel around herself and went for help.

* * *

It would be fair to say that Hugo was not expecting to open the door to find a shivering, dripping Elsie standing before him, her eyes showing obvious signs of tears.

"I can't do it," she told him, unable to meet his gaze.

"Do what?" he asked uncomfortably, taking a drag from the cigarette clasped between his fingers.

She rolled her eyes at herself, fighting to hold back the tears of shame. "Wash my back."

Just when she thought he was going to turn her away, Hugo nodded and stepped out of his room, closing the door behind him.

While he waited outside the bathroom door for Elsie to make herself both decent and comfortable in the warm water, Hugo began to wonder if her back would look as bad as his. Unlike her, the first thing he had done was pour half a bottle of whiskey he had found, over the long, gaping wounds that crisscrossed his back.

"Okay," Elsie's voice came quietly, breaking him from his thoughts.

Though Hugo had already seen Elsie as bare as she currently was, he still acted with the decency of a gentleman, ignoring the fact she was entirely naked and keeping in mind the reason he was there. He knelt on one knee beside the bathtub, facing her back. It was covered in dozens of deep cuts; some looking fresh, others already well on their way to becoming scars. He spotted a washcloth on the edge of the tub, one that she had clearly already tried to use, judging by the streaks of dark blood on it. He picked it up.

"What's the damage?" Elsie asked.

"They'll heal," he told her, before he dipped the wash cloth in the bathwater.

Elsie braced herself for the coming pain. Hugo paused and then ran the wash cloth gently down her back. She bit down on the knuckle of her index finger, squeezing the side of the bath tightly with her other hand. It was excruciating as the hot water hit the soft, healing skin, but she made herself endure it, her body shaking in silent sobs. It was over in minutes.

Hugo hung the wash cloth, which was now completely covered in her blood, over the edge of the tub and stood up to take his leave.

"Thank-you," Elsie told him, finally looking up.

Hugo gazed at her for moment, then gave a nod, closing the bathroom door behind him and returning to his own room.

He sat on the edge of his bed and thought about the woman he had just bathed, but in no way were his thoughts of her perverted. He thought of the look in her eyes as she received the lashes, her look of appreciation every time he had offered her a nod of acknowledgement as he was led past her cell. But most of all, he thought of his inability to stop the officer from raping her. He would have given anything to have been allowed the opportunity to kill the Nazi in one of his notoriously creative ways. For a man infamous for killing thirteen Gestapo officers in a cold, calm and calculated manner, when the girl had shown up at his door looking so vulnerable, he had felt something far gentler stir inside him.

* * *

When Elsie finally managed to drag herself out of the bath, she felt a little better; even a little more like her old-self. She felt refreshed, but knew she would never truly be able to feel clean after her ordeal. Now that she had managed to release all of the pent up emotions from the past few days, she was feeling better, but unbelievably exhausted. She had just enough energy left to search the room for a decent set of new clothes, since there was no way she was going to continue to wear the clothes from her imprisonment.

She was surprised to put together a relatively decent outfit from the random articles of clothing she came across. But she could not be bothered putting it on just yet, settling instead for the plain pajamas she had found sitting on the bed. The inn had been well-prepared for patrons in its pre-war days, and even now had a few luxury items left lying around. Elsie put on the white sleepwear before collapsing on top of the soft bed and falling right to sleep. She didn't hear the person who came quietly into the room, or feel them place a blanket across her as she slept on into the night.


	7. Chapter 7: The Three 'Must-kill-teers'

' _There's bullet holes where my compassion used to be, and there is violence in my heart.'_

 **Chapter 7: The Three 'Must-kill-teers'**

In this chapter:

· The now complete Basterds

· A wound

· An odd team

· Nazis in a car

* * *

Elsie kicked a tin can that had been lying in the middle of the road, sending it rattling out ahead of them. The men turned to look at her, but she was too preoccupied with her own troubled thoughts to notice. She jumped as she heard movement in the bushes to her left, and clicked off her safety, cautiously raising her weapon as she stepped forward to investigate. A bird took flight from among the branches and she let out a breath, flicking the gun's safety back before letting it hang by her side once more. Donny had noticed that she was jumpier since leaving the prison; every snap of a twig, rustle of a leaf, or sudden call from one of the men putting her on edge. As much as he hated to see her like that, he put it down to the physical torture she had confessed to enduring; but only Hugo knew the true extent of her suffering.

The Basterds had been walking for days now without coming across a single enemy, let alone a place to sleep indoors. They had been camping under the stars, which hadn't been so bad with the warmer than average weather they'd been having. It was also a nice way for them to spend a little quality time together as a squad. Hugo wasn't much of a conversationalist, but Elsie enjoyed chatting with the other boys. None of them had asked her about the prison, instead telling her stories about their lives back home, hoping to take her mind off it. Unfortunately these stories only served to remind Elsie of the fact that she no longer had any family. The Basterds were her family now.

It was starting to hit nightfall when they reached the edge of the forest.

"A'right, we'll set up camp here fer tonight," Aldo told them, consulting his map, "Next town ain't much further."

"This is so fucking boring," Hirschberg whined, loud enough for Elsie to hear as he passed by, but not loud enough to be heard by their lieutenant. His number of days without a kill was growing close to a new record. "I need some fucking kraut blood on my hands already." Looking to Elsie as he spoke, he almost ran straight into their newest member. Stiglitz stared down at the short Basterd, his expression cold and emotionless as he smoked a cigarette. Elsie forced back laughter as Hirschberg fumbled for words.

"N-Not you, obviously. I mean, not that you're a kraut..."

Stiglitz nodded in mock-understanding before his eyes flicked to the woman behind them and a playful smirk appeared on his face. Hirschberg followed his gaze and realized he was being made fun of. He stalked off, muttering curses under his breath.

"See. Already making friends," Elsie smiled. The German chuckled.

Aldo watched the two prison escapees interact - the smile on Elsie's face lending him some comfort - then glanced around at the rest of his men. He could see that everyone was starting to feel the drag of walking all day and accomplishing nothing. They were growing restless, with morale dropping fast; and bored soldiers quickly became reckless soldiers. But he had something up his sleeve - a card that he would play as soon as he felt the time was right.

* * *

Sackowitz and Utivich were attempting to get a fire started with a stack of kindling and a couple of matches, but their efforts were proving futile. Elsie sat on a log nearby, watching them, amused by their bickering and many failed attempts. Opening up her rucksack, she pulled out a liquid solution to the problem and took a mouthful of it, pausing for the opportune moment. As the boys began to argue once more, she blew a mist of the whiskey onto the dwindling flame, and jerked back as it briefly shot high into the air. Utivich and Sackowitz had jumped clear just in time. She gave a bark of laughter.

Sitting against the tree stump opposite them, Wilhelm smiled, appreciating the entertainment after an otherwise uneventful day; but Donny glanced over with what might have been concern for her sanity.

"Elsie, cut that shit out," Aldo scolded through a mouthful of bread.

"Sorry, sir," she called back to their lieutenant, stifling her giggles. She turned back to Utivich, who stared up at her from where he'd landed, his large eyes still wide with surprise. "Sorry, I couldn't resist," she told him.

Leaning back against a nearby tree, Hugo had a cigarette dangling from his lip, observing Elsie's idea of lending a hand. As he struck a match to light up his smoke, he cast her a glance and said, "It's okay, I've got this myself."

She grinned.

"What's there to eat? I'm stahving," Donny asked Aldo.

"Stale bread, powdered coffee or some rotten apples," Aldo told him, "Take yer pick."

"Three course meal, if ever I heard one," Elsie commented.

All she had with her, aside from her own rations, was the whiskey. If she'd had anything else she would have willingly shared it, but the whiskey was helping to dull the pain in her back.

"You know, the apples aren't so bad if you roast 'em," Hirchberg suggested as he shoved his onto the end of a stick.

Taking a bite of his own and grimacing, Zimmerman replied, "Might cook the worms, at least."

Elsie gave her apple to Donny because, hungry though she was, she never wanted to eat another apple in her life. He offered to trade it for some of his bread, but she declined, stating, "Big guy like you needs all the fuel he can get."

Sitting around the fire, their stomachs a little more content now that they had something in them, each of the men began to drift off to sleep. As usual, it was Elsie and Hugo who remained awake. Elsie had been having trouble getting to sleep since her trips to the basement, and so elected to take watch for the night. Though Hugo had volunteered to join her on the off chance they were stumbled upon by German troops, his really just wanted to keep her company. Looking over at the sleeping figure of Donny, Elsie smiled. Hugo observed her quietly and waited. Sure enough, she walked over and sat down next to him.

"You gettin' bored yet?" she asked him.

"You keep me entertained," he assured her.

She chuckled and offered him the bottle of whiskey, which he accepted gratefully.

"What are we gonna drink to?" she asked, taking the bottle back from him once he'd had a mouthful.

Hugo looked up at the star-filled sky as he thought about it.

"Tomorrow, we kill some Nazis," he decided, speaking to her in German.

"Ja," Elsie agreed, "Sounds good."

She took a long drink from the bottle, toasting to the hope of murder.

* * *

Unfortunately, their toast didn't pay out; it was another day of walking without an enemy in sight. Utivich, like most of the others, was beginning to miss the banter between Donny and Elsie that had once been thrown around as they marched. It had kept them entertained during these lulls before combat; a welcome distraction. But that had been before her time in the prison. She walked silently ahead of him now, with Donny close by keeping an eye on her. Stiglitz and Wilhelm walked together on the path, conversing in their native tongue. As the only non-American members of the group, the ex-Nazi and the Austrian-born Jew had managed to find a middle ground. Donny, who loathed the sound of the German language, glanced over at them every now and then, not bothering to mask his distaste.

"Was ist los mit dir?" Elsie asked him with mock concern.

"Don't you fuckin' start," he warned her, but her playful smile was infectious.

Her hand came up to cover the side of her mouth and she whispered, grinning, "You know, I think we've been walking in circles."

"I 'eard that," Aldo called back to her, "Blame Kagan, he's navigator."

Elsie turned and shook her head at the confused looking Basterd, walking backwards as she cradled her gun. "For fuck's sake, Kagan, you had one job."

Mystified, he looked at Omar, but the man just shrugged. Watching all of this, Utivich smiled to himself.

Wilhelm was being careful not to bring up anything about Elsie in his talk with Stiglitz, knowing she was more than capable of understanding every word they were saying. Though he was one of the more perceptive men in the group, he too wanted to know what had happened to her in the prison to make her so…different. During the time she had been with them, she had always seemed so strong emotionally, and although he hadn't seen her in the cell when Donny had discovered her, he could see the experience behind bars had changed her. Whatever had happened, he knew it would have had to have been particularly bad.

He noticed Stiglitz gazing at the girl as she pushed Donny playfully for making fun of her 'poor acting skills'.

"Well, we could've dressed _you_ up in the costume," she was telling him, chuckling at the idea of the enormous Basterd squeezed into the tiny dress.

"Nah, can't fake tits like yours," Donny replied, receiving a hard punch to the arm in return. "What?"

"Asshole."

Wilhelm chuckled at Stiglitz's frown. He clearly wasn't used to this sort of blunt chatter between a man and woman.

"Amerikaner," Wilhelm said, as if that explained it.

"I thought she was French."

Elsie turned to look at them, joining in on the German conversation, "It's kind of an extended vacation."

"Your accent," he pointed out, the reason for his initial belief.

"Cajun," Wilhelm explained. Stiglitz made a face that said he hadn't heard of it.

Wilhelm took out a cigarette, lit it and replied once more, "Amerikaner."

* * *

That night, they reached a secluded patch of forest and set up camp. Elsie had begun acting distant again, sitting alone with her back against a tree, smoking a cigarette she had gotten from Hugo. She was still staring into space when she stood up.

"Going to use the facilities, sir," she informed Aldo, toeing out her cigarette.

He glanced up to make sure she was armed, spotting the machine gun hanging by her hip, then gave a nod. The soldiers watched as she walked by, waiting until she was out of earshot to begin their conversation.

"Is she okay, or...?" Utivich asked, as he stoked the campfire with a long branch.

"She was imprisoned by Nazis. They probably tortured her to give away our location. How do you think she is?" Wilhelm replied with a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth.

"You think they tortured her? Yeah, I guess that would explain a lot."

Wilhelm didn't reply to this and Utivich turned to look at Donny, but the big man was silent as he stared into the flames. The three men turned their heads in perfect unison to look over at Stiglitz. He glanced up briefly from cleaning his gun, but said nothing.

"But she could walk when we found her, right? So maybe they didn't torture her, you know...too badly?" Utivich considered, wincing at how ridiculous he sounded.

Wilhelm stared at him for a moment, blowing smoke out through his nose, then said, "Probably fucked with her head. Some wounds don't heal so easily."

Utivich turned to look back at Stiglitz once more. Like most of the Basterds, he was still uncertain about the newest addition to the team, but knew that Elsie got along well with the man. He considered asking him for his opinion on the matter, then thought better of it. They sat in silence until a gunshot rang out from somewhere in the woods.

"MOTHERFUCKER!" came a shout.

Metal clinked and barrels locked as the Basterds prepared themselves for a possible incoming threat. Aldo, who had been standing nearby listening to his men talk, raised his hand for them to be still. They waited for a moment in silence, then heard the unmistakable 'thud' of metal hitting skull. Grabbing a couple of flashlights, Aldo signaled for Donny and Stiglitz to follow him, in case he needed either muscle or an interpreter. They moved off to investigate the sounds, leaving their wary brothers behind to await their return.

They weren't sure what to expect, but Donny was already worrying about Elsie. He had recognized the voice behind the expletive, having found himself on the receiving end of it many times before. As they moved deeper into the woods, the thudding noise became louder.

They discovered Elsie clutching her gun in one hand, while her other arm hung limp by her side. She drove her foot into the lifeless body on the ground, stopping her barrage to drop her gun and grab her wounded shoulder.

"God fucking damn it!" she hissed.

"Elsie, what 'appened?" Aldo asked her as he came closer, pointing his flashlight at her.

She turned towards them and they saw that her right coat sleeve, once light brown in color, was now stained dark with blood.

"I went to take a piss, and this fuckin' guy comes out of nowhere and pops me in the shoulder," she explained, the pain fueling her anger.

She winced again and Aldo pointed the flashlight down at the man lying in the dirt. His skull had been smashed in, the bloodied butt of Elsie's gun telling him what with. At least he was wearing a German uniform.

"He was alone?" Aldo asked her.

"Scout, I think," Elsie managed to reply. Aldo glanced back towards the camp, able to make out the glow of the fire even at this distance. The town must have been closer than he thought.

Donny stepped towards her to get a better look at the wound, grabbing her coat lapel to pull it aside. She slapped his hand away.

"You 'right to walk?" he asked her.

"They shot me in the shoulder, not the knee, genius," she replied.

Then, as if to answer Donny's question more accurately, she fell to her knees, fast becoming weak from the combination of blood-loss and malnutrition. Donny rolled his eyes and went to her aid, as did Hugo, who swung his gun around his back and bent down to help her up. Careful not to aggravate her wound more than was necessary, Donny lifted her to her feet. Instead of carrying her - which he knew would have pissed her off even in her weakened state - he put an arm around her waist to keep her upright. She held onto him with her good hand and began the steady trek back towards the camp.

The others were still on edge as they returned; ears and eyes pricked for any sign of incoming enemies. As they caught sight of Elsie's wound, they lowered their weapons.

"Orders, sir?" Kagan asked, staring off in the direction they had come from.

"A scout, already taken care of. I want you and Sackowitz on a perimeter sweep. Utivich, get some dirt on that fire," Aldo ordered, "We might 'ave company."

Donny helped Elsie onto a low rock ledge and looked around for someone who knew how to deal with wounds.

"Tell me we have a medic," she said to them.

"Wicki!" Aldo called.

"I thought he was our interpreter?"

Aldo turned back to her with his hands on his hips, "Man o' many talents."

"What about you, huh?" she asked Donny, "You don't treat wounds, you just cause them?"

"You got that right." He glanced at her bleeding shoulder, then back at her pale face and his expression grew worried, "How you doin'? You hangin' in there?"

"It's not too bad. I've had insults from you that stung worse."

He grinned and turned to find Wilhelm approaching, closely followed by the remaining men. The campfire had since been put out, and the only light they had now was that of their flashlights and the moon above.

Elsie had broken into a cold sweat and was shivering by the time they carefully removed her coat and cut a slit in her shirt. Somehow, throughout the whole process, she managed to remain calm, cracking jokes as if everything was fine.

"You know that saying, 'One day you're gonna get caught with your pants down'?" Elsie asked, "It's true."

"Is she going into shock?" Hugo asked Utivich, who was standing beside him.

"No, that's just Elsie," Utivich assured him, as he watched Wilhelm examine the bullet hole. Aldo stood behind the makeshift medic, pointing a flashlight at the area.

"We're going to need pliers or something to get the bullet out," Wilhelm told them, taking a drag from his cigarette. They stared back blankly.

"A pocket knife?" he asked them.

Donny pulled out the same knife Elsie had used to carve into his bat, flicking out the small blade and handing it to him, but the wounded woman shook her head.

"Fuck no," she told him, taking a deep breath, "Just use your fingers, I don't care."

Wilhelm regarded her face, then the wound and nodded. Hugo left Utivich's side and Elsie watched him make his way to her bag, rifling through the contents.

"Can't you at least wait until I'm dead before you loot my stuff?" she joked, breathing in sharply as Wilhelm touched the area around the wound.

Hugo made his way to the front of the group and presented her with her bottle of whiskey.

"You never cease to surprise me," she smiled. She waited until he had unscrewed the cap, and then took the bottle from him, indulging in a quick mouthful of the burning drink before passing it Wilhelm. He tipped some onto his hands and rubbed them together like a doctor preparing for surgery

"Ready?"

She took a deep breath, gave him a determined look and nodded.

"One. Two. Three," Wilhelm counted down. Then he stuck his fingers into the wound, searching as quickly as he could for the bullet.

Elsie let out a cry of pain, her hand going to Donny's forearm and squeezing hard as he stared down at her with concern. The other Basterds looked on with sympathetic expressions, but only their sergeant wished he were in her place so that she wouldn't have to endure this.

She let out a string of German profanities that made Hugo and Wilhelm glance up in surprise.

"She's speakin' in tongues!" Donny attempted to joke, but she was in no mood for it, letting go of his forearm to slap him in the chest.

"Shut the fuck up, Donowitz!" she wheezed.

She bit back a scream as Wilhelm dragged out the bullet.

"Done," he told her, and she blew out a sigh of relief.

"Aw, whatta ya gonna name it, Else?" Donny joked again, attempting to take her mind off the pain. He was alarmed at how pale she was becoming.

"Give it here," she said, and Wilhelm made to pass her the bullet. She looked at him like he was mad.

"Not the bullet, the booze!" she told him, "What am I gonna do? Make a fucking necklace out of it?"

Nothing but the sheer amount of pain she was in could make her talk that way to the man who had only ever looked out for her best interests. He passed her back the whiskey and allowed her a small sip before pulling it from her grip. She shot him a look.

"You've lost a lot of blood," he reasoned with her, "Alcohol's not a good idea."

After a resigned nod she finally began to relax. Wilhelm took a capful of the alcohol and poured it onto the gaping wound, soothing her in German as she grit her teeth to stifle any further cursing.

When the pain had finally subsided, she looked up at him with a sheepish expression. "Sorry for yelling at you."

"I would have been more concerned if you hadn't," he told her with a forgiving smile, "Where did you pick up that colorful language anyway?"

"Let's just say 'Henker' wasn't the only thing the Germans called me," she replied and he chuckled.

She slid down off of the rock with a little help from Donny, and gave a hiss of pain, reaching for her back.

"What's wrong?" Donny asked, eyes full of concern.

She turned to reveal the long, red stripes staining through her top from her reopened wounds. "Is it bleeding?" she asked. The men stared, realization dawning on them.

"We'll get you patched up," Wilhelm reassured her, glancing from Donny to their lieutenant. The other Basterds took this as their cue to leave, giving the girl some privacy, but Donny lingered. He turned his back to them as she started unbuttoning her shirt. A moment later he heard Aldo curse. It was the first time he had seen the true extent of what she had endured during her imprisonment. Wilhelm could only stare, too stunned to speak.

"Have you cleaned these?" Donny heard Wilhelm ask her, and she replied in the affirmative. He felt tempted to peek over his shoulder, wondering what could have stirred such a vocal reaction from his lieutenant, but instead kept still and listened.

"Why didn't ya tell me, Else?" Aldo asked in a hushed voice.

"It's not a big deal."

"Ain't a big- Are you fuckin' kiddin' me?"

"What difference would it make? We gonna kill every Nazi twice?" she asked.

Donny smirked. There was a moment of silence as the two Southerners stared at each other, arms folded and equally stubborn. Then Aldo pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, gesturing to her back.

"A'right. Get 'er patched up, Wicki. You reckon you'll be feelin' up to the march tomorra?"

"I'll try my darnedest, sir," she replied, "If not, I'm sure I can piggyback on Donny."

Sensing her gaze once again, he risked a glance back at her, grinning. The humor fell from his face as he finally saw the damage that had been inflicted on her. He turned back and Elsie watched his whole body tense with rage.

"Have we got some gauze in one of the bags?" Wilhelm asked, and Aldo nodded, heading off to grab it.

As soon as she was bandaged up and dressed again, Elsie attempted to move away, if only to escape the mixed look of guilt and concern that Aldo kept throwing her. Taking a few tentative steps towards her gear, her head began to spin.

"I gotcha," Donny chuckled, catching her just in time.

She hissed as a sharp pain coursed through her shoulder, then turned back to the men who had helped her, managing to thank them. They both gave a nod, exchanging looks once her back was turned.

"How ya feeling there, ma'am?" Donny asked her, as they made their way back to their gear.

"Besides having next to no blood in me, standing half-naked in front of men I consider family, and having a bullet ripped out of me, I'm fan-freakin'-tastic," she told him. He stood by as she slowly lowered herself down next to her rucksack, then crouched in front of her with a thoughtful smile. Lightheaded as she was, she could sense something unusual about his mood.

"You know, I'm always gonna be here for ya, whether you like it or not," he whispered, looking up to catch her gaze.

Unsure if it was the blood loss, the exhaustion, or the unexpected moment of affection from the biggest man in the squad, Elsie suddenly felt choked up.

"Donowitz, you're gonna make me cry," she told him, trying and failing to sound sarcastic. He plonked down beside her and pulled her into a careful, lopsided half-hug. Pulling back to look her, he caught the genuine tears threatening to spill and touched a hand to her chin, looking her in the eye.

"Quick, call me an 'asshole' or something, or your tough gal act's gonna be blown."

She pushed his hand away and punched him, cursing as pain ripped through her other shoulder and he laughed.

"You're gonna be blown," she muttered, a horrible attempt at an insult in her half-drunken state. He threw her a look, but rather than pick her up on the unintended innuendo, took pity on her instead. He reached over to his belongings and pulled out his leather coat, tossing it over her.

"Sleep tight, princess," he chuckled.

"Fuck you," she replied, but feeling more comfortable with the extra layer of warmth added, "Thanks."

"There it is." This time his smile was genuine.

Hugo watched this exchange between the two Basterds, completely unnoticed from his seat against the log, puffing away thoughtfully on his cigarette. Although he didn't entirely understand the relationship they shared, he couldn't help but wonder just how far it went.

* * *

A week later the Basterds were trudging along a dirt road when Aldo raised his hand. The bored-looking troops nearly missed the signal, they hadn't seen it in so long. They moved to a position behind the trees, out of view of the German soldiers up ahead and looked to their lieutenant for orders. He seemed to be considering their next move. The small patrol was walking towards them, chattering away among themselves, completely unaware of what awaited them up ahead. Aldo looked to Donny, Hugo and Elsie, gave them a nod and gestured with his head towards the approaching men. Elsie noticed those who hadn't been chosen looked devastated; they were all dying to reduce their debts.

The team of three waited for the soldiers to pass by before creeping out of their hiding places and reaching the road behind their unsuspecting victims. Elsie found that she was able to hold a gun fairly steadily despite her recent wound, though it had initially taken some getting used to. Luckily, it had only been a flesh wound and was healing quickly, but it would be a few months before she would be able to use it at full capacity.

Without a word, the Basterds open fired into the backs of the Nazi troops. The three men fell to the ground, dead.

"A'right, put them uniforms on and go see what's waitin' fer us up ahead," Aldo told them, stepping out from the woods. He glanced at Elsie, recalling the last time he'd sent her out dressed in costume, and added, "Else, you don't gotta-"

"I've got this," she assured him, and he gave a reluctant nod.

"They stink like krauts," Donny commented as he tugged on the pants and jacket that were a little snug on his large frame.

"Really?" Elsie replied with sarcasm, finding she had the opposite problem in terms of sizing; the clothes were much too big for her.

Stiglitz waited patiently by the side of the road, already dressed for the little game. As a final 'fuck you' to the German army - aside from his constant role in decreasing its numbers - he had taken back his original uniform from the storage vault in the prison. Since his captors had bothered to keep it, he had guessed that the plan had been for him to wear it when he was marched through the streets of Berlin as an example of what happened to those who opposed Hitler's regime. He planned on being a very different kind of example to the people of Germany.

Despite her previous experience with playing dress ups and fooling Nazis, Elsie led the way down the path, ears pricked for any sound of approaching enemies. Sure enough, it wasn't long before they heard the crunch of wheels on gravel as a vehicle approached their position. They looked at each other, smirked and came to an expressionless halt in the center of the road.

The German soldiers were having a pleasant trip; laughing and chatting about the town they had just taken, swapping stories about its accommodating brothel and the even more accommodating women. They spotted three soldiers standing in the middle of the road up ahead and their laughter died down. The trio looked like a patrol guarding the only route into the town, but then they had never been informed of any such patrol. The driver continued on anyway, ignoring his first instinct to turn back, and brought the car to a stop, smiling at them. Noticing one was a pretty young woman, he smiled even more. She didn't smile back.

"What brings you all the way out here?" he asked in a friendly manner.

Donny, Hugo and Elsie paused, then open fired on the car - Donny with clear anger, Hugo and Elsie without expression.

It was as easy as ABC: Absolute Bloody Carnage.

When the job was finished, Donny and Hugo led the way back to the squad, with Elsie walking behind them deep in thought. Her mind had gone back to her dash towards the Nazi outpost, her last costumed escapade, and the results of her participation. Her heart beat hard in her chest as she imagined her attacker making a second appearance. With her grip tightening on her weapon, she picked up her pace. Looking up at the two men in front of her, she felt safer knowing they would have her back in an instant should she suddenly find herself in a bad situation. Spotting the bloody bullet-holes in the back of Donny's jacket, she smiled. Hugo looked back at her to see why she wasn't keeping up, and she gave a nod much like the ones he had given her back in the prison. He gazed at her for a moment, then gave a little smile in return. And he wasn't even a smiling kind of guy.


	8. Chapter 8: A Short Stay

**A/N:** Apologies for any incorrect translations in this chapter. Suggestions for corrections are welcome.

* * *

 **Chapter 8: A Short Stay in the Quaint Town of 'Nazi-Occupation'**

In this chapter:

· The taking back of a town

· The birth of a soldier

· A conversation

· Jealousy

* * *

The town that the German soldiers had been driving from, was under the guard of an entire company of Nazis. This absolutely delighted those of the Basterds who were experiencing what they referred to as 'a Nazi-killing drought'. The town was far from being evacuated or abandoned, as all the other towns had been. For the Germans, this one was worth fighting for. It came with, not only many of the original French occupants, but also its very own brothel. Not that the Basterds were interested in that of course. Of _course_ not _.._.

"A'right. We got us an occupied town up ahead and those German boys in there ain't gonna go down without a fight," Aldo began, "Way I see it, we'll be celebratin' with the Frogs in there before the night's out. How's 'bout that, boys?"

"Yes, sir," they replied.

"And girls?" Aldo asked, turning to Elsie.

"Sounds reasonable, sir," she smiled.

As luck had it, the Germans hadn't seen them coming initially, thus allowing them to position themselves more effectively. Elsie stood with Hugo by the side of a building as he lit up a cigarette for her, before lighting up his own. They took out their machine guns and both peered around the side of the building, spotting a sniper in the church tower up ahead. Wilhelm, who was up the road in a position that gave him a pretty good view of both the Basterds and their enemy, looked over for their judgment of the situation. As the best marksman of the Basterds, he was expecting a hell of a workout in this town.

Elsie made a few improvised hand signals – having yet to learn all of the proper military ones – to explain what she had just seen up ahead. He nodded in understanding, checking his gun was clean and ready. Elsie glanced back at Hugo and noticed him staring off up the road. He had spotted a group of four Nazis walking near the entrance of the town, and was suddenly distracted by both their proximity, his fingers already wrapped around the hilt of his knife. When he finally glanced around to her, he saw her smirking at his restless behavior.

"Go on," she urged, and he was off before she could say another word.

She watched him swing his gun back over his shoulder and take out a beautifully shining, silver knife. He used this to kill all four men, despite them being armed with guns. His movements were silent and swift, and as the last of the Nazis collapsed to the ground, he turned back to her, lighting up another cigarette with bloodied fingers. She had to admit, he sure knew how to impress a lady.

When he finally returned, he cleaned the knife on his pants before placing it back in its sheath and smiled a very charming smile at her expression of interest. The crack of a gunshot broke their moment. Wilhelm had taken his shot. Now that the sniper was down, they were free to run amuck through the town, taking down any Nazi they found.

Which is exactly what they did.

Elsie ran towards the church tower, a stupid decision on her part, since it was where most of the German soldiers were being drawn once they'd realized that their sniper was no longer in working condition. She dodged two Nazis as they ran towards the tower, and it took them a minute to realize that she was neither a civilian, nor one of their own. Flattening herself against the alley-side of the church, she glanced down the street and saw even more Nazi soldiers approaching. She considered her best option. Take them all down with her machine gun with the possibility of missing one and being killed herself, or wait it out for a more opportune moment. She chose a mix of the two. Feeling around her jacket for her knife, her hand came to rest on something much more interesting.

Lieutenant Aldo's gift to her; an American hand grenade.

She took it out and kissed it with joy, looking around the corner of the building to find that all the soldiers were now inside; the phrase 'shooting fish in a barrel' came to mind. Even Elsie knew it was a rule for soldiers to spread out, especially when under attack. Or maybe they didn't know that they were under attack. If they didn't then, they sure as hell did when they heard the 'ping' of a grenade pin being pulled and tossed aside, before experiencing the ensuing blast.

Elsie took off down the opposite end of the street, delighted with the result. As far as she knew, there were no survivors. Just as she was about to reach the agreed upon meet-up point of the Basterds, a rather mean-looking German sergeant came out of nowhere, gun in hand, blocking Elsie's path.

"Filthy American whore!" he growled at her in his native tongue.

Donny had spotted the situation from the window of his current position, taking out his baseball bat, ready for action. But he was too slow. Hugo got there first.

With a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth and a strange kind of smile, Stiglitz slammed his knife through the back of the wide-eyed man, the tip of the weapon pierced through to the other side. After a few more violent stabs, Hugo let the soldier slide out of his hands and slump to the ground, dead.

"I had that one," Elsie told him indignantly, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

"Sure you did," he teased.

Elsie had discovered over the past few weeks that Hugo was neither shy nor quiet. In fact, he was downright funny, not to mention cynical and sometimes even talkative, though she was the only one to have ever witnessed this side of him. It had taken him a little while to warm to the Basterds, but they had begun to see a different person from the 'weird, quiet, ex-Nazi' they had originally thought him to be. He was one of them now. Sure, he wasn't as loud as Donny, or as trigger happy as Hirschberg, but he was a Basterd nonetheless.

"Elsie, get your ass over here," Aldo called out to her, as she stood staring at Hugo.

Reluctantly, she continued heading towards her original destination.

"Sir? The town's cleared?" she asked as she entered the house.

"I just sent Hirschberg and Utivich out to give it a once over," he replied from his position by the window.

Hirschberg? Well, if it wasn't cleared of Nazis before, it certainly would be now, she thought. As if to support this, a grinning Hirschberg came through the door behind her and Hugo, splattered head to toe in blood that wasn't his own. Utivich wasn't far behind him, looking less enthusiastic, decorated in the same shade of red.

"Did you throw a grenade into that church full of krauts?" Hirschberg asked Elsie as he passed her.

"Yeah. Why?"

"That was real nice," he chuckled.

"Uh, thanks?" Elsie replied with a raised eyebrow.

"Town's clear, sir," Utivich reported. That had been fast, even for the Basterds.

"A'right, let's go see if we can't find ourselves some survivors."

By survivors he meant civilians, but they seemed indifferent about their small town's sudden change of hands. Especially the whores out the front of _L'Amour Divin_ ; 'The Divine Love'.

"More like 'La _Gonorrhée_ Divine'," Elsie commented, thinking about how many Nazi soldiers these girls must have been forced to lay with.

Despite this reference to a very painful consequence, the Basterds, with the exception of Aldo, Hugo, Wilhelm, Donny and Elsie, were drawn into the arms of the waiting girls, who lured them inside the seedy-looking house with the greatest of ease.

"I thought that they called New Orleans 'The Big Easy'," Donny joked to Elsie, gesturing towards a particularly easy-looking 'lady of the evening'.

She could sense he was trying to get on her good side, perhaps even working towards the same thing that the boys in _L'Amour Divin_ were about to receive, but she merely chuckled and began walking away from the remaining Basterds.

Hugo glanced from the retreating Elsie, to Donny, who seem to be considering his next move, then also began to move away from the brothel. He really wasn't attracted to the pouting girls in the windows, even the one that flashed him her breasts as an attempt to persuade him.  
There was only one girl that he was interested in, and she was now passing through the doors of a bar named _Le Tasse Idiote_ : The Fool Cup.

Wow, clever pun _there_ , Elsie thought sarcastically as she walked through the pub's wooden doors. She was glad to be greeted with very few faces, and even happier that none of them were of the Nazi persuasion. She was the only woman in the room, but she realized that the other customers had a certain respect for her after helping wipe-out their captors. She took a seat at the bar, placing her weapon in front of her up against the wooden counter.

"What will it be?" the bartender asked in French, as he walked over to his newest customer.

Elsie looked around and thought for a moment before deciding, "Un whisky, s'il vous plaît."

"Make it two whiskeys."

Hugo sat down next to her and gave the bartender money for both of the drinks. The Basterds had acquired a fair amount of money between themselves during their travels. But, hey; dead men don't need their francs, do they?

"I didn't know you could speak French", Elsie smiled.

"Only that phrase. It's the only thing I've ever needed to know."

She laughed, considered his words and then nodded.

Staring rather apprehensively at Hugo, who remained dressed in his original Nazi sergeant's uniform, the bartender placed their drinks in front of them. "It's okay," Elsie reassured him, throwing in a friendly smile for good measure, "He's with me."

The bartender frowned and walked away. Elsie suddenly realized how her words would have sounded to someone not familiar with the Basterds. She bit her lip and made a face that read 'Oops', making her drinking buddy chuckle. Rubbing her eyes with one hand and picking up her whiskey with the other, she toasted with Hugo and drained the liquid in a swift gulp. Despite being able to hold her alcohol fairly well, she only allowed herself two more drinks, both courtesy of Hugo. She realized she had now taken up two bad habits because of him, smoking _and_ drinking, but she wouldn't hold it against him. After all, she enjoyed them both; particularly if it was in his company.

* * *

Donny had watched Stiglitz walk away, knowing very well where he was going.

"God fucking damn him," he said under his breath. Now walking away from the brothel with Wilhelm and Aldo, both men heard his words.

"If you want her, why don't you go after her? Why do you think Stiglitz did?" Wilhelm told him.

"Uh-uh, no way she'd go for a kraut. No offence," Donny replied without thinking.

Wilhelm raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing. Kraut was generally only a term used for the Nazis, not just someone from Germany. He and Donny weren't enemies, but they weren't buddies, either. Wilhelm regarded him as a big-mouthed, Nazi-bashing thug. But he also saw how much the man cared about Elsie, and that at least raised his respect for him a little.

"Elsie's a smart gal, she can take care o' herself," Aldo commented, "If you want something to take your mind off her, Donny, there was plenty o' nice girls back there."

"I'd rather if my dick didn't fall off, sir," Donny replied. "Besides, I ain't about to fuck someone who's probably just been on the end of some fucking Nazi's dick." His eyes blazed and the muscles in his jaw set tight as he thought again of Elsie and their ex-Nazi comrade.

"Well then, why don't you stop botherin' me and go find yerself a nice place to drink 'til you pass out?"

Donny continued cursing under his breath, and walked off, presumably to do what his lieutenant had just recommended. Being a relatively small town there was, of course, only one place to go to for drinks.

As Donny entered the establishment, he found no sign of Elsie, or of Stiglitz. He glanced around and approached the bartender.

"Was there a girl in here just now? Reddish hair, about...yay tall?" he asked the bartender, raising his hand to a position just in front of his chest to indicate the height of the missing person.

The bartender looked up at him briefly before returning his attention to the glass he was polishing, replying in a heavy French accent, "If it's the same girl you're talking about, she and some German just bought a room upstairs for the night."

Donny stared at him, and then glanced up. It took all his willpower not to storm up the stairs and burst into every one of them until he found Elsie, or more importantly Stiglitz. He planned on teaching Stiglitz a lesson or two about what happens to someone who tries to steal his girl away.

"Give me your strongest drink," he sighed in defeat, taking a seat at the bar.

* * *

Hugo and Elsie lay side-by-side on the double bed in the room that they had just rented; but at this moment, sex was the last thing on their minds. They were content just to be in each other's company, quietly staring up at the roof; Elsie, with her hands behind her head and Hugo with his hands resting on his stomach.

"How do you know Aldo?" he asked her.

She chuckled slyly before answering, "He and my father used to run an illegal moonshine bootlegging operation between states."

"Moonshine?"

"It's kind of like homemade alcohol."

"Why didn't they just get it legally?"

"Couldn't. Government introduced prohibition in 1919. No alcohol allowed."

"What a horrible government," Hugo commented, making Elsie chuckle again. "What happened to your father?"

"Well, that's kind of Aldo's fault, actually. He was making a run to Louisiana, meeting up with my father at the border, but he got caught just before he made it there. Apparently bootlegging wasn't the only crime he'd had a hand in. He was trialed and sentenced to death by hanging. Naturally, my father couldn't just let him hang, so on the day of the execution, just as the hangman pulled the lever for the trapdoor, my father runs in and cuts Aldo down, and shoots the guards."

She paused, in thought, then continued, "It's not a story I'm particularly proud of, my father being a criminal and all, but he put his neck on the line to save a friend. I guess I kind of admire that about him."

"That's how the lieutenant got that scar?" Hugo asked with his head turned on the side to face her.

She nodded.

"Where's your father now?"

"Dead. He got shot while they were escaping. Got away, but it aggravated some illness he'd had since the war and...yeah. Aldo came by our house to tell my ma what had happened, to give his condolences. I think he blamed my father's death on himself. That's why he bothered to come all the way out to save me like he did."

"You know, I haven't heard that story," Hugo told her, "About how Elsie joined the Basterds."

"It's a long one. Are you sure that you want to hear it?"

He smiled and gave a nod.

"Okay, here goes," she sighed. She began with her mother's death, when she was fourteen; a demise she was certain had some correlation with the loss of her father. Although officially it was the pneumonia that had killed her mother, it hadn't helped that she would often sit outside for hours at a time, staring blankly into space as the rain soaked through her clothes. She didn't even seem to notice the rain.

Elsie then talked about being shipped to France, about her new life in bliss at the Villa. Then about her new hell as Landa arrived.

"You've met Colonel Landa?" Hugo interrupted.

"Unfortunately. Why?"

"Let's just say he's very well known in Germany."

Elsie looked at Hugo curiously as he lapsed into thought. He looked to her to continue. She talked about killing one of Landa's men, about the Jewish family who had been brutally slaughtered, about her time in the orchard, and the ways in which _she'd_ brutally slaughtered the German men who'd come looking for her. Elsie was surprised to see that the man next to her was genuinely interested in her origins. He gazed at her with an intensity that grew distracting.

"What happened after the Basterds found you?" he asked.

"I learned how to be a soldier," she replied, "Well, _their_ version of a soldier. I learnt how to cut throats, scalp heads and that sometimes a knife is a better friend than a gun." She smiled and continued, "Then Donny and Aldo got the brilliant idea of me putting me in costume for a particularly whimsical escapade, and I ended up in a German prison. Though I suppose that wasn't such a bad thing."

Her hand found his and clasped it between them in the middle of the bed. Placing her other hand on her stomach, she continued to stare up at the ceiling. She looked suddenly distressed.

"What is it?" Hugo asked.

"Hellstrom," is all she replied, in a quiet, distant voice.

Hugo frowned, his mouth turned down in a scowl. That name alone was enough to make his blood boil. He turned on his side, letting go of her hand and propping himself up on one elbow. Elsie did the same, still looking distracted with her thoughts. He placed his free hand in the curve of her side and, rubbing it gently with his thumb, he made her a promise:

"If I ever see that man again, I'm going to kill him."

It was pure and simple: an act for her out of the sheer devotion that was growing in his heart.  
She gave a small smile of gratitude. Taking his hand from her side, he touched it to her chin and gave a smile of his own. She shuffled in closer to him and buried her head against his chest, closing her eyes, and slowly drifting into a content slumber.  
She felt safe for the first time in a long time.

Below, Donny sat and waited.

* * *

When the early morning sunlight woke Elsie the following day, she moved slowly and quietly out of the arms of a sleeping Hugo, careful not to wake him. She smiled at him as she closed the door to their room, proceeding down the staircase and into the bar. Donny was still sitting in the same seat from the night before, arms folded on top of the counter with his head resting on them as he slept. It didn't look like a particularly comfortable position to sleep in.

"He refused to leave last night," the bartender told her, as he prepared his business for the days customers.

Elsie looked at Donny with disapproval, but she couldn't find it in herself to be angry at him. She had to appreciate the dedication.

"Donny," she said, poking him in the side gently to wake him. He stirred and then woke with a start. He didn't look very happy with her.

"Ya fucked him, didn't ya," he said, not even bothering to pose it as a question.

"No, I didn't," she replied, thrown by offensive line of questioning.

"Yeah right," he continued, swiveling around in his chair to face her, "You rent a room for the night together? And you want me to believe that he slept on the floor?"

"I never said that," Elsie replied, beginning to lose patience with him, "I said that we didn't have sex."

Donny looked like hell, as if he'd only just drifted off when she had woken him. His hair was a mess and he had the beginnings of dark circles around his eyes. Elsie on the other hand, was feeling fantastic, having slept better than she had in weeks. But her good mood was starting to wane, as she realized the amount of grief she had caused Donny simply by sleeping in the same room as Hugo.

"I wouldn't do that to you," she told him, but he looked just as uncertain as she felt about that statement.

He stood up and gave her a look that very nearly broke her heart. Nodding as though he thought her actions would have been inevitable anyway, he turned and left. Elsie squeezed her eyes shut and then felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to find Hugo standing behind her looking concerned.

"What's the matter?"

Elsie didn't know what to say, so instead she gave him a forced smile and headed out the door. But Hugo knew that something had upset her, whether she would admit it or not.

The Basterds were waiting for them outside the brothel, the men that had left with the whores the night before now looking content but tired. The only people that looked like they had gotten any sleep were Elsie, Hugo, Aldo and Wilhelm. But Donny still looked like _he_ _'d_ had the worst night out of everyone. He looked over at Elsie, but she couldn't meet his gaze, choosing instead to glance up at the sky. It looked like they were in for some nice weather, at least.

Standing nearby, Wilhelm glanced from Elsie to Hugo and then to Donny, sensing the tension between the three. As Elsie faced forward once again, she met his eyes and he could see that they were full of indecision. They both turned their attention to Aldo as he began speaking.

"Alright, same drill as always. Today we're walking 'til we find the next town or the next lot o' krauts. Any questions?"

As usual, there weren't any.

"So, how's your penis?" Elsie asked Utivich as they made their way down the road.

Utivich looked at her in surprise and narrowed his eyes. "Uh, why do you ask?"

"Just wandering if it's fallen off yet," she replied.

He grinned, now understanding what she was on about. "It's fine", he told her, "Better than fine, in fact-"

"Alright, I don't wanna hear anymore," she cringed, putting her hand up to hush him. He chuckled.

"What about you?" he asked. He hadn't been the only one to notice her leave the bar with Hugo.

"Oh, my penis is fine," she joked.

Then she sighed; she really didn't feel in the mood for making jokes. Utivich laughed and was about to make a wisecrack, when he noticed her expression. Just ahead of her, Donny was walked lethargically onward. As a soldier he was used to not getting a lot of sleep, but lack of sleep wasn't his only ailment at that moment. He glanced back at Elsie again, and this time she met his eyes. She sped up her pace until she was walking next to him, but neither of them spoke.

"Did you see that girl last night?" they heard Hirschberg saying, "She was an absolute pro."

Omar, Sackowitz, Kagan and Zimmerman seemed to agree with this statement; apparently their own girls had been much the same. Choosing to now block out the men's smutty conversation, Elsie stopped to drink from her canteen of water. Glancing around at the other soldiers, who all carried on walking, Wilhelm stopped beside her to wait. She gave him a grateful smile as she took a mouthful of water and he nodded. After she put her canteen away, they walked together in silence, neither knowing what to say. Elsie knew that Wilhelm was bound to know about what was going on with her, but she didn't want to be the one to bring it up. If he decided to, she was fine with that. And he would have brought it up if he had known where to begin.

"Sleep well?" Elsie asked him.

"Yeah," he replied.

They were silent for another few minutes after that, but Elsie couldn't stand it. She dived straight into the thoughts that had been bothering her.

"I need your advice on something," she told him.

"Three guesses what," he said. She nodded and sighed.

"Donny seemed a little aggravated yesterday. Did he find you in the bar?"

Elsie shook her head and wondered if she should say where she had been.

"Hugo and I…rented a room there for the night," she admitted.

Wilhelm simply nodded. That's why Elsie liked talking to him: he didn't judge.

"We talked, that's all, but I can't seem to convince Donny. That's why he's pissed at me."

"Donny's thickheaded. Sometimes words don't work with him," Wilhelm said, "but he cares for you. He'll come around, I guess."

Looking at Elsie now, Wilhelm could tell that she was in much better health than she had been a few weeks ago. Despite her gloomy expression, she looked as though she had been sleeping better, and seemed less distant. Perhaps Hugo was the better one for her, after all.

"How's your shoulder?"

"It's pretty much healed now," she replied, raising her arm and rotating it slowly to show him. "I never really did thank you for getting the bullet out, did I?"

"Yes you did," Wilhelm assured her, "Besides, what was I going to do? Let Aldo remove it for you?"

Elsie cringed, knowing that although Aldo was like a father to her, and she like a daughter to him, he would have taken Donny's pocket knife and twisted it around in the wound until he managed to find the bullet. Wilhelm had simply plucked it out with his bare fingers.

She waited until they stopped for a rest break before talking to Donny. He was lying on the ground with his eyes closed, using his jacket as a pillow, trying to catch up on that sleep he had missed the night before.

"Donny," she said, as she took a seat on the ground next to him. He opened one eye to look at her, and then closed it again.

"Yeah?"

He still sounded pissed off.

"Can we talk?" she asked.

"I'm trying to sleep," he told her.

"Will you just listen, then?"

No reply.

She pursed her lips, raised her eyebrows and nodded slowly, as though she knew that this was how he would act.

"I swear on..." she closed her eyes and sighed, unable to believe what she was about to say, "I swear on my grandparents' graves that nothing happened between me and Stiglitz."

Donny opened his eyes, knowing that there was no way she would never do or say anything ill whilst swearing on the names of her grandparents. She was looking away from him now, her expression riddled with uncertainty and gloom.

He regarded her hesitantly before putting his hand in her knee, "I believe ya."

She turned her attention back to him, her expression a little lighter in relief to his response. He repositioned himself on the ground and rested his head back on her thigh, throwing his jacket over himself as a blanket. He closed his eyes once more and drifted into a much more contented sleep. Elsie gave a small smile and leaned back on her hands. She knew that she didn't really have to explain herself or her actions to Donny, but when she thought about it, she did owe it to the guy.

So things were good between her and Donny again.

For a while.


	9. Chapter 9: The Beginning of the End

**Chapter 9: The Beginning of the End**

In this chapter:

· Prisoners

· Recognition

· Batter-up!

· Time for a holiday

* * *

As it turned out, Aldo had lied to Elsie on the first day she had met the Basterds. They _did_ answer to someone; in fact, she soon learned that the Basterds were commanded by the Office of Strategic Services, otherwise known as the OSS, and were quite an important group to the American war effort.

Despite the discovery of this new information, she really didn't feel any different about them or their cause. After nearly four months of killing, scalping and travelling together, the Basterds had become a close group of not only soldiers, but also friends. Although they were originally both outsiders in their own ways, Elsie and Hugo were a part of this faction, and it wouldn't have been the same without them. The team mentality made them all the more successful in their mutual goal: to kill any and all Nazis they came across.

Aldo now sat scouring a map he had recovered from the last group of Nazis they had eliminated. It was a chart of the surrounding territory and was apparently of some significance to the German soldiers in the area; however, it gave no hints as to where these other patrols might be posted.

While their lieutenant scanned the piece of paper, the Basterds busied themselves with their usual customary practices; scalping, looting and irrelevant conversation. Elsie, now used to scalping and one of the fastest in the group at doing it, sat watching the others as they carried out their work, with a canteen of water in her hand. As she took a drink, Hirschberg straightened up from the body of the man, holding his topmost layer of hair.

"Hey Else, what'll you give me if I get this scalp to land on top of your head?" he asked, grinning at the idea.

"A concussion," she deadpanned. The surrounding men laughed and Hirschberg tossed the scalp aside.

Just as she put away the canteen, Elsie spotted Hugo making his way down the center of the gully, leading the last three soldiers that they had left alive. Wilhelm walked behind them with his gun in hand just in case they decided to try their luck at escape. As one man stopped to gaze in shock at his dead and scalped comrades, Wilhelm kicked him in the ass to get him moving again. Hugo and Elsie exchanged smiles as he made his way past her towards Lt. Raine.

Aldo had chosen to situate himself directly beside a large brick bridge and the underpass that opened below it. The yawning entranceway was dark, giving no indication of what lay both inside and beyond it; but the Basterds knew. One of their own, in fact. After all the Basterds had positioned themselves for the best view of their lieutenant, most settling for the top of the rise on either side of the bridge, Aldo decided that it was time to speak to one of the survivors.

"Hirschberg, send that kraut sergeant over, will ya," he ordered.

Hirschberg seemed quite happy to have been left in charge of the prisoners, kicking out at the oldest looking man of the group. The man looked at him with distaste, but proceeded over to Aldo nonetheless.

Sitting atop the bridge, above the goings-on below, Elsie glanced around to see were the other Bastards had chosen to position themselves, her legs dangling over the side. Hugo was standing on her left a few feet away, while Wilhelm was below her to Aldo's left, in case an interpreter was needed. Utivich was also on the ground below, but stood to Aldo's right, a little way behind Hirschberg and the prisoners. The others were spread out not too far from where Utivich stood, all waiting to see how things would pan out.

"Sergeant Werner Rachtman," the German told Aldo, giving a brief salute, respectful of the lieutenant's rank.

"Lieutenant Aldo Raine," he introduced briefly, caring little for proper introductions, "Ya speak Anglish, Werner? 'Cos if ya don't, we gotta couple of people here who can translate."

He looked over at Wilhelm, "Corporal Wilhelm Wicki, Austrian-Jew who got the fuck out of Germany while the gettin' was good," he told Werner. He turned his head and looked up towards Elsie, who smiled down.

"That pretty little gurl up there you mighta heard of."

The sergeant glanced up, then looked back at Aldo, "Henker. Yes, I know who she is. Most of us are now referring to her as 'Da Uden-Hure'."

The Jew-whore. How charming.

Elsie raised her eyebrows and gave a little sarcastic shrug as if to say, 'Eh, what are you gonna do?'

"Another one up there you might be familiar with: Sergeant Hugo Stiglitz," Aldo continued, sounding proud to have this particular recruit, "Heard of him?"

Werner looked over at Hugo, eyeing his familiar uniform, and his face twisted in disgust at the man's betrayal of his own country. He replied to Aldo, "Everyone in the German army has heard of Hugo Stiglitz."

He practically spat the name out, as though it left a bad taste in his mouth. The Basterds laughed and 'whooped' in support of their fellow soldier and the murders he was famous for. Elsie smirked at Hugo as he made a cocky gesture at Sergeant Rachtman with his thumb and forefinger. She turned her attention back to Aldo and the prisoner below, but things didn't seem to be getting anywhere fast.

"Can I assume, then, that you know who I am?" Aldo asked.

"You're Aldo the Apache."

Further whooping and clapping ensued from the surrounding Basterds.

"You heard of the Basterds, then I presume that you know we ain't in the prisoner takin' business. We're in the killin' Nazi business. An' cousin; business is a boomin'."

"Oh yeah," the Basterds agreed, laughing.

"Now, I have some idea of a Nazi patrol that's fucking around somewhere in that orchard up ahead," Aldo began, referencing a spot on the map, "So if you ever wanna eat a sauerkraut sand'ich again, I suggest you to take your finger and point out on this here map for me where exactly it is that they're hiding."

"You can't really expect me to divulge information that would put German lives at risk," the sergeant replied.

Aldo sighed and took off his hat. All of the Basterds were dressed in their usual civilian clothes – with the exception of Hugo – but now with coats and scarves due to the ever-cooling weather. The warm summer had slid into a less than warm autumn, and it seemed that autumn was hastening into winter much faster than usual. Leaves fell from the trees surrounding them, making the bloodied scenery a little more picturesque.

Elsie had put together a warm ensemble that she now considered her signature outfit as a Basterd. It consisted of flat-bottomed leather boots that reached just below her knees, dark brown pants (which seemed a Basterd staple), an off-white woolen shirt, a brown woolen trench coat, an olive-green neck scarf, and a dark brown newsboy hat, not unlike Aldo's. Her long, red hair flowed out from beneath it, immediately giving her away as the lone female member of the group.

"Now, you see, that's exactly what I expect you to do," Aldo told the sergeant.

"I respectfully refuse," he answered, touching his hand to his heart.

A hollow 'WHACK' echoed out of the bridge's dark underpass.

Elsie's heart skipped a beat. No matter how many times she'd seen Donny in action, she still reacted the same way every single time.

"Hear that?" Aldo asked.

Rachtman nodded.

"That's Sergeant Donny Donowitz. Or as you'd probably know him better as: 'The Bear Jew'. Now, if you heard of Aldo the Apache, you've gotta have heard of The Bear Jew."

"I've heard of him."

"What have you heard?" Aldo inquired.

"He beats German soldiers with a club."

"He bashes their brains in with a baseball bat, is what he does. So, Werner, I'm gonna ask you one last time and if you still 'respectfully refuse', I'm gonna call out Sergeant Donowitz and he's gonna take that club of his and beat your ass to death with it. Now take your wiener-schnitzel lickin' finger and point out on this here map what I wanna know."

Although they needed to know where the next lot of Germans were stationed, the Basterds were praying to God that the Nazi would refuse once again. Much to their delight, he did not disappoint.

"Fuck you," he told Aldo, before glancing around at the surrounding soldiers, "and your Jew dogs!"

"Whoa-ho-ho," the Basterds jeered, clapping at his words.

Aldo grinned.

"Actually, we're real tickled to here ya say that, 'cos, quite frankly, watching Donny beat Nazis to death is the closest we ever get to going to the movies."

Folding away the map, Aldo stood up. "Hey Donny!" he called down the tunnel next to them.

"Yeah?" a heavy Boston accent replied.

"We got us a German here who wants to die for his country. Oblige him."

The hollow whacking ensued once more from the underpass. Excited as she was to see Donny play whack-a-Nazi again, Elsie sat tight, knowing that he liked to drag out his entrance to build both suspense in his audience, and fear in his victims. Sergeant Rachtman sat in front of the tunnel entrance, staring bravely into the face of his approaching death. Aldo took out a sandwich from his rations and began eating while he waited.

Donny finally sauntered out from under the bridge, dressed in brown trousers, suspenders and a white wife-beater that clung perfectly to his well-muscled chest, his bat resting on his shoulder. The Basterds cheered him on, Aldo clapping as he held his sandwich in his mouth. Donny turned to look up at the bridge to where Elsie sat, giving her a look that said, 'This is all for you, baby'. Then he turned back to face the Nazi sergeant, fury burning in his eyes. He spotted a medal hanging from the man's breast-pocket.

"Ya get that for killing Jews?" he asked, jabbing it with his bat.

"Bravery," Rachtman told him.

Donny made a face to say he didn't believe him. He touched his bat to the man's head, a caress of death, and then, swung it back. When it came down and made contact the Nazis head, Elsie thought that the 'CRACK!' of wood meeting skull could've been heard a few miles away, it was so loud. She gave an involuntary cringe before she commenced cheering with the other Basterds.

Donny never failed to give them a good show.

After delivering a few more heavy blows to the body of the convulsing German sergeant, he turned to the spectators.

"Johnny fucking Williams hits it out of the ballpark! Fenway Park on its feet for Johnny! Fuckin-ballgame! He went yardo on that one, onto fuckin' Lansdowne Street!"

Elsie nearly lost her balance on the edge of the bridge, she was laughing so hard at Donny's commentary. Donny, adrenaline still pumping, looked for the next victim and spotted the two remaining prisoners. He pointed his bloodied bat towards one of them.

"You!"

The man got up, looking as though he would be more than willing to give them any information they wanted now, but he never got the chance. For no apparent reason, Hirschberg shot him in the back, killing the man instantly. And this made Elsie laugh even harder. Hirschberg glanced up at her with a grin.

"Hirschberg, send that other kraut over," Aldo told him, adding for good measure, "Alive!"

The remaining prisoner's eyes widened as Donny came towards him, jabbing him in the back with his baseball bat.

"On your feet, batter-up! You're on deck! Two hits: I hit you, you hit the ground."

The laughter began to die down a bit as the Basterds waited to see what this prisoner would do. It was very rare for the second prisoner to refuse them what they wanted after seeing Donny at work, and this particular man looked like he would even have done a little dance for them, had they asked.

"Anglish?" Aldo asked, as the prisoner was shoved forcefully down in front of him by Donny.

The man shook his head nervously.

"Wicki," Aldo called, since he was the closest of the three possible interpreters.

Wilhelm jumped down from the small hillock he had been watching from and crouched down beside his lieutenant.

"Do you wanna live?" Aldo asked the shaken prisoner. Wilhelm translated it to the man, who quickly replied, "Ja, ja!"

His eyes darted about to the people around him, trembling like a scared child. He looked up at Elsie, trying to appeal to the more maternal side of a woman. Clearly he didn't know Elsie. She stared down at him without emotion.

"Point out on this map, the German position," Aldo ordered.

The second after Wilhelm had translated, the private's arm shot out like a rocket, tapping a spot on the map Aldo had taken out once more. The Basterds chuckled at the German's cowardice.

"How many?"

He gave his answer to Wilhelm, who looked back at the lieutenant, "Round about twelve."

"What kind of artillery?"

The prisoner started to shake a little more as he paused to recall, thinking, perhaps, that any hiatus in his flow of information would result in a similar fate as the others. He replied very quickly in German, motioning once again to a few areas on the map.

"They have a machine gun dug in here, facing north," Wilhelm told Aldo.

"A'right, then, that's what I like to see. Some goddamn genuine co-operation."

Aldo got to his feet and folded the map away, gesturing for the prisoner to also stand. He obeyed without hesitation.

"Now when you tell 'em what happened here, you can't tell 'em that you told us what you told us. They'll shoot ya. But they're gonna wanna know why you so special, we let you live. So you can tell 'em that we let ya live, so you could spread the word through the ranks, of what's gonna happen to every Nazi we find."

Aldo then looked to Wilhelm, who nodded in understanding. It was time for the final act.

Aldo looked thoughtfully at the young prisoner. "Now, say we let ya go, and say ya survive the war, what're ya gonna do when you get home?"

Wilhelm listened to the man's answer and told the lieutenant, "He's gonna hug his mother."

"Well, ain't that nice," Aldo smiled, "What's he gonna do with that uniform?"

"He says he's gonna burn it," Wilhelm explained.

"Yeah, that's what we thought. We don't like that. See, we like our Nazis in uniform. That way you can spot 'em just like that."

He clicked his fingers to show just how quickly they could spot them.

"So when you take that uniform off, ain't nobody gonna know that you was a Nazi. And that don't sit well with us."

Aldo took out his large Bowie knife.

"So I'm gonna give ya a little something ya can't take off."

The prisoner's eyes widened.

While Aldo made his mark on the screaming German soldier, Elsie was trying to figure out how she was going to get down without slipping. The fallen leaves that surrounded her didn't make this process any easier. Looking around herself for some kind of foothold, she locked eyes with Donny, who stood below, watching her attempts.

He put down his bat and held out his arms, motioning for her to jump down.

"Oh, uh-uh," she told him, not liking that idea at all.

"I'll catch ya," he promised reassuringly, making the gesture for her to jump once more.

She leaned forward a little to judge the distance from where she sat, to the ground below. If she fell, she wouldn't necessarily die; but she wouldn't be walking for a long time, if ever again. She put her hand over her eyes and dragged it down over her face, taking a deep breath.

"Just let me throw my stuff down first," she called down to him.

She tossed down her gun and satchel, both of which he purposely dropped. She looked at him, horrified.

"What? I'm joking," he laughed. "Now, come on, or I'll get Hirschberg up there to give you a little push."

Taking another deep breath, she slid herself right to the edge, closed her eyes and pushed off, falling towards the ground below...but not making contact with it. Instead, she felt arms grab her and gently lower her to the ground. Brushing off the seat of her pants, Elsie glanced around and saw Hugo gazing at her. She picked up her things and was about to make her way over to him, when Donny stopped her.

"No 'thank-you'?"

She turned to him with her head slightly to the side, a raised eyebrow and a look of mild irritation, but she could hardly resist his lopsided smile.

"Thank-you Donny," she said, melodramatically, "for catching me in your big, strong arms. There's no way that a frail little girl like me could ever have gotten down from there by myself. How lucky I was to have you there."

He shook his head at her, still smiling.

Just as she was about to turn back around and go to Hugo, she saw that he was already walking towards her. While Donny went to pick his bat up off the ground, Aldo called everyone over.

"A'right, since we all been working so hard lately, seems command thinks we're owed a bit of a break. Looks like we'll be spending the next week in Paris."

The Basterds stared at their leader in surprise. This they had not been expecting.

"Now if ya'll'd stop looking at me like that, I'd much appreciate it. We got us some work to do."

He tapped the map.

Nobody seemed to care that they were about to take out a machine gun-powered Nazi squadron.

It was time for a holiday.


	10. Chapter 10: Paris, Je T'aime! - Part One

**Chapter 10 – París, Je T'aime! – Pt.1**

In this chapter:

· A new identity

· A stroll

· A hotel

· Jazz

· Sex

· An undesired run-in

· Lunch

· A welcome farewell

· Strange satisfaction

* * *

Cécille Amour stood in front of a full-length mirror, observing her newly colored hair with indecision. She finally decided that it was enough, that she did in fact look different enough, as per the Basterds' plan for their stay in Paris.

They had adopted pseudonyms for the duration of their break.

Elsie had chosen to use the name of her deceased grandmother, as well as a rather simple French surname. Her decision to bleach her hair had been entirely her own and not completely necessary, but her hair was something that did tend to stand out. Going from blood-red to blonde was a huge, but after initially greeting that stranger in the mirror, she was slowly growing used to it.

She had spent most of the day shopping, using the money she had looted from the bodies of dead Nazis, which had really added up over time. She had never been overly keen on shopping, but given the opportunity, not to mention the large wad of cash, she couldn't think what girl wouldn't take that and run with it.

The hotel she was staying in sat on the waterfront, her room overlooking the River Seine, with a lovely view of the city. Elsie was glad she had gone with her own advice and opted for an obscure hotel. Whilst discussing the subject of where to stay, Hirschberg's suggestion had resulted in the following conversation:

"The Ritz!"

"Mm, good idea, Hirschberg. So we're staying in Nazi-occupied France, holidaying in the capital city, and we're going to go and stay in the most prestigious hotel that it has to offer. I wonder where all the Nazi officers will be staying?" Elsie had replied.

"Alright then, _precious_ , what do you suggest?"

"How about a nice obscure hotel that a Nazi would probably never set foot in?"

"What's wrong with staying in a hotel full of Nazis?" Donny asked, "It makes it easier to kill them."

He smirked at the thought. Glancing at Hugo, Elsie noticed that he was also entertaining the idea with a sly smile.

"Take it easy there, tiger," she told him, "Once again, we're in the capital. We shoot or kill any of the men stationed in this city, then we may as well put up the white flag now. Our situation is basically one giant Mexican stand-off. We shoot any of them and we're as good as dead. Besides, we're on holiday now; the scalps'll wait."

And so they had.

The Basterds were spread out over three relatively random hotels. That way if they _were_ discovered, it would be more difficult for the pursuers to find them all. Of course, Donny and Hugo had wanted to stay as close to Elsie as they could, but she wouldn't have that. She told them the name of the hotel she planned on staying in, waited until they had both checked in, and then found a separate hotel of her own, away from all the men. She needed some time to get back in touch with her old self, rather than the version of herself that the Basterds had a hand in creating.

Now looking through her new clothes, Elsie took out a simple black dress and a pair of white heels she had purchased, smiling down at the ensemble. She hadn't worn heels in a very, _very_ long time. Putting them on, she stood in front of the mirror and smiled; she looked like a woman again. Grabbing a pair of white-rimmed sunglasses – one of the latest styles – and a warm, white scarf, she took her purse from the table by the door and left the room. She made sure that the door was locked securely before heading in the direction of the hotel that she had conned Donny and Hugo into staying at.

She hadn't seen the boys for a little over a day now, and most of them were too preoccupied with the sights and sounds of the city to even bother looking for her. However, Donny was annoyed at her for running off. Hugo, meanwhile, knew she would go to them when she was ready. But rather than go straight to them, Elsie chose to loiter out the front of the hotel. She was not quite recognizable at first glance, so when Donny came through the doors he didn't even notice her standing next to him.

"Hey kid, got a cigarette?" she asked him in a mock-smoker's voice.

Donny turned to look at the strange figure beside him and did a double take. He took a moment to look Elsie up and down, taking in her new look, and then he frowned, almost suspiciously.

"What did you do?"

She took off her sunglasses and scrunched up her face. "What do you mean, 'What did I do'?"

"You look different."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're quick on the uptake."

"You know, we just had to change our names, not, uh, _everything_ ," he told her.

Elsie gave no reply, she simply smiled.

Seeing Elsie like this made Donny want her even more. He thought she had been attractive before, even in her bloodied men's clothing, but her current attire added the final touches. She was beautiful. In the cold air, her cheeks were flushed pink and the white-blonde hair made the green of her eyes stand out. With her cocky little smile, she was simply irresistible. He had to give himself a mental shake as he realized he had been staring at her for an uncomfortable amount of time.

Elsie glanced up at the sky briefly and looked back at Donny.

"Alright, well I'll see you later," she told him, turning to leave.

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know yet. I want to check out the area a bit more."

"Don't get lost. Or fuck too many guys while you're out," he told her.

"Vas te faire, enculé!" she called back to him, the first time she'd spoken French in a while.

"Yeah, fuck you too," he replied, fighting the urge to follow her.

She turned to look at him and grinned.

* * *

Walking through the streets, Elsie came to realize that there were a lot more Germans staying in the city than she had initially thought. Nearly every third person she walked past was wearing a German uniform. She was glad she hadn't invited Donny to go with her. Many of the soldiers – at least those who weren't already arm-in-arm with a girl of their own – looked at her invitingly, but she either kept her eyes averted, or offered them a forced smile and nothing else. More than once her thoughts shot back to Hellstrom, but every time they did, she forced herself to focus on her

A small cinema, _Le Gamaar_ , was situated a few blocks down from where she was staying, and she had already passed it once that day. The first time she had come across it, she had paused in front to see what was playing. It had been Riefenstahl film, something about the mountain Pitz Palü. She had made a mental note to drop by in the evening to watch something.

Now, stopping to glance around the front of the establishment, Elsie spotted a young woman close to her own age standing in the foyer. She had golden blonde hair and looked simultaneously bored and distracted. The girl glanced up as Elsie pushed open the door leading inside.

"Bonjour," she welcomed her customer.

"Bonjour. One for _The White Hell of Pitz Palu_ , please," she requested in French.

The girl nodded and Elsie passed her some money.

Just as she was about to enter the theatre, Elsie looked back at the young woman, who glanced up at her and gave a small, but somewhat forced smile. There was something strange about the girl, but Elsie couldn't quite put her finger on it.

Ignoring the odd feeling, she entered the theatre and took a seat towards the back. The film was just about to start and, aside from Elsie, only a handful of people made up the audience. A young man who appeared barely out of his teens, glanced back at her as she took her seat. He gave a friendly smile, and despite the fact that he was a uniformed German soldier, Elsie couldn't help but smile back. Closing her eyes for a brief moment, she sat back in her seat and began to relax as the film started rolling.

As soon as the film finished and the lights came back on, she stood up and left the theatre, deep in thought.

"Excusez-moi!" someone called, bringing her mind back from its wander.

Turning around, she found herself looking at the young German soldier. Now that she could see his face properly, she found he looked almost familiar.

"You forgot your purse."

He handed her the small bag with another sweet smile.

"Merci," she thanked him.

"You're welcome."

They looked at each other for a second longer he glanced away. He seemed interested in the young woman in the foyer, his eyes following her as she went about her business inside.

* * *

Heading back towards the hotel, Elsie took a detour and stopped by the river. She took a seat on a park bench, closing her eyes and listening to the sound of the wind rustling through the trees around her. Someone sat down beside her. Her heart practically jumped into her throat for a moment as she whipped her head around and saw Hugo smiling back at her.

"Geeeeez." She put her head back as she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Did I scare you?"

"No," she lied, "but you're real good at sneaking up on people. I guess I'm the only person you _have_ snuck up on who's lived to tell the tale."

He chuckled. Then Elsie remembered the little stunt she had pulled on him.

"No hard feelings about the hotel switch, right?"

"I knew what you were doing," he replied.

"So you just went along with it?"

He nodded, taking out a cigarette and lighting it. He offered her one but, for once, she declined.

It was now dark outside; the moon, not quite full, was shining above the water. In this light, Hugo looked different. As he stared off across the river, Elsie observed him and felt something unusual. For the first time she was seeing him as more than just a soldier; she was seeing him as the man he was.

"Donny's still annoyed, though, I believe," he informed her. She broke off from her thoughts.

"He always annoyed about something," she replied, in an absent-minded kind of way.

Glancing at Hugo, she saw he was smiling at her with admiration.

"Are you hungry?"

"Why?" she asked.

"I thought we could go to a restaurant."

Elsie raised her eyebrows. "You're asking me to dinner?"

He gave one of his characteristic little nods.

"Alright," she agreed, "What did you have in mind?"

He raised one brow in thought, turning his head to look at her, "There's a jazz club that I know of. Something told me you might like it."

She smiled at him.

Hugo stood up, threw his cigarette down, snubbed it out with his boot heel, and then offered her his arm to take. Such a gentleman.

Elsie took it and moved close to him. It was starting to get cold and her dress was proving an insufficient outfit for such weather. Besides, she liked being this close to him.

* * *

Cab Calloway's _Minnie the Moocher_ was playing in the club when they entered. There were so many uniformed German soldiers sitting inside that for a moment Elsie glanced at Hugo and suddenly realized he was in civilian clothing. He squeezed her arm reassuringly and they walked toward a table at the back of the room. The club was sparingly lit and so full of the smoke of its patrons it was difficult to make out the faces of those around them. As well-known as Hugo was through the ranks of the German army, it didn't seem likely he would be recognized. Once seated, a waiter approached them and took their drink order: two whiskeys. Maybe it really _was_ the only thing Hugo knew in French.

Even when the whiskey was placed in front of him, Hugo couldn't take his eyes off of Elsie. She was studying the other patrons currently enjoying their leisure time within the club. When her eyes finally came back to rest on him, she saw the way he was looking at her and blushed. What the hell was wrong with her? She was never like this, especially not with him. She felt strangely vulnerable at that moment. So of course, being Elsie, she had to break the moment with an off-center remark

"'Lotta Nazis here tonight," she commented.

He didn't say anything, picking up his whiskey with his eyes still trained on her, throwing back the drink like it was water. _Minnie the Moocher_ finished and was replaced by _We'll Meet Again_ by Vera Lynn.

Elsie picked up her own glass and was about to drink it when she spotted someone that made her freeze. She tried her best not to draw Hugo's attention to this person, who sat only four or so tables away, but it was inevitable that he would see the sudden surprise in her eyes. He turned his head and recognized Colonel Landa almost immediately. He turned back to Elsie and stared down at his empty glass as though trying to suppress an overwhelming urge to kill the German detective.

"Are you alright?" he managed to say in a gruff voice, his subtle way of asking whether or not she wanted to leave.

"It's fine," she replied, throwing back her drink in a smooth gulp.

She focused on the warm sensation of the liquor as it ran from her throat to her stomach, promising herself that she would not look in that direction again.

"Let's order some food."

Hugo looked uncertain, but went along with her anyway. Neither person wanted to cause an upset tonight; especially not one that would likely result in both of their deaths. Still, Elsie couldn't believe her luck.

"Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world..." she muttered to herself.

"He's number two," Hugo told her, but she had no idea what he was talking about, looking at him to elaborate.

"On my list of people to kill for you," he explained.

"Aw, you're so sweet," she told him with a hint of sarcasm, but she was touched by the fact he had actually kept a list.

"So how many people are on that list?"

He took a moment to think about this, and then replied, "How many people do you want to be on it?"

She grinned.

* * *

Although she had been too distracted to eat much of her meal, Elsie had still enjoyed her dinner with Hugo. She was especially pleased that Landa hadn't looked over at either of them for the entire duration of the evening. Walking back to her hotel, Elsie held Hugo's arm once more, feeling a lot calmer after a few more shots of whiskey. She found she could hold her alcohol surprisingly well for a woman of her build, a talent she had used on a number of occasions to win bets against the other Basterds when they were moving from town to town.

As they reached the doorway to Elsie's current residence, they paused. Elsie let go of his arm and turned to face him.

"Goodnight," he said with a lopsided smile.

In a moment of silence, so many thoughts raced through Elsie's mind, but she ignored them all. As the two Basterds' lips met, they felt a sudden spark that drove them on. Breathless, Elsie gave Hugo control of the situation in her sudden moment of weakness. He put his arm around her waist and very nearly lifting her of the ground, and brought her closer to his body. She broke the kiss and tilted her head back as he kissed just below her jaw. He let go of her and gave her a look that asked where she wanted to go next. Still elated from his kisses, she moved towards her room. He followed.

Hugo lay on the queen sized bed as he waited for Elsie to return from the bathroom. She had taken something out of one of her bags of shopping and quickly disappeared without a word of explanation. He was intrigued.

She slowly opened the door to reveal the black lingerie she had purchased the previous day. She hadn't bought it specifically with him in mind, because as far as she had known, this might not have happened. Hugo sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. She walked to him slowly, their eyes locked. The open lace gown she wore over the delicate lace brassiere and underwear, trailed on the floor as she did so. She stopped in front of him and he looked up at her.

He wanted to say something, but couldn't think of a word to describe how beautiful she looked to him. The glimmer in her eyes told him he didn't need to.

He grabbed her gently by the waist and brought her forward, stroking her exposed torso, then kissed just above her belly button. She shivered. Straddling him slowly, she discovered he was enjoying this as much as she was. Lifting her up, Hugo placed her on the bed and then began removing his clothes. Elsie closed her eyes and waited, but in this short moment of intermission, she began thinking back to the one moment she really didn't want to recall, especially not now.

She tried to block it out, but images kept flashing in her mind. When she opened her eyes again, Hugo was getting back onto the bed. Seeing him as he was wiped the thoughts from her mind and brought her back to that same vulnerable state as before. He picked up where he had left off, beginning at her neck and kissing slowly down to her belly. With every kiss she felt more and more blissful. When he reached a spot an inch or so below her belly button, she breathed in sharply with anticipation, but he didn't go any further, moving up instead to kiss her on the lips.

She reached up and ran her hand down the back off his head. He gazed at her for a second, and then moved backwards, removing her underwear with one hand, gently clasping each side of the garment. As he did this, Elsie's mind flashed back to the basement; to Hellstrom ripping off her dress, cutting off her undergarments. She made a very small noise of distress. It was almost indiscernible, but Hugo glanced up from what he was doing to make sure she was alright.

"Elsie?"

It really didn't help that he pronounced her name like another certain German once had, but she fought off the flashbacks and sat up, bringing him towards her for a kiss, her arm around his neck. With her bottom half now completely naked, Hugo moved over her, looking down at her glowing face. But he could see something was wrong: the glow didn't quite reach her eyes. He remained still above her, a concerned look on his face. He was only prepared to do this if she was. He knew better than anyone else the things that this girl had been through.

"Do it," she whispered.

He leant down and kissed her again, then slowly pushed into her. She drew in a shaky breath and clasped his shoulders tightly. He moved his hips back and then forward, speeding up only very slightly, testing her reaction. The problem was, she gave no reaction. Elsie had turned her head to the side, a distant look on her face. She wasn't ready for this, but she wouldn't admit it. Hugo stopped and pulled out. He lay down beside her and put an arm across her stomach, kissing her on the head.

"It's okay," he told her, stroking her hair softly.

She turned her head and he could see the tears in her eyes, but she was trying desperately to remain strong. Inside, she felt deeply ashamed.

"Elsie, look at me," he said gently.

For a moment, she kept staring up, then slowly brought her gaze down to meet his. She couldn't stop the tears now, as they slid silently down her cheeks, but still she ignored them, acting as though she was fine. She tried to force a smile, but failed miserably, covering her face with her hands. Hugo took her hands and slowly brought them away from her face. He kissed a spot just under her eye that was wet from tears and she finally looked at him steadily.

"I'm sorry," she whispered before getting off of the bed and going back to the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Standing in front of the mirror, Elsie wiped away the tears, shaking her head, angry at herself. She was better than this. It had been months since she had been assaulted and she had thought she was coping. A flash of anger ripped through her as she thought of the man who done this to her; the man who was still out there somewhere, getting away with his horrible abuse. Hugo may have vowed to bring the men who harmed her to a horrible end, but deep down she prayed that their deaths would be brought about by her own hands.

When she finally willed herself to exit the bathroom, after splashing some water on her face and changing into a white, knee-length nightgown, she found Hugo sitting on the edge of the bed smoking, wearing his pants but still shirtless. He glanced up at her as she walked out, concerned. She gave a little sniffle and smoothed her hair back with one hand, offering a small, unconvincing smile before sitting down on the bed beside him. She took the cigarette from his hand, and took a drag, handing it back to him whilst blowing the smoke from the side of her mouth. She slid back on the bed and lay down. Hugo remained where he was before he felt arms wrap around his waist. Looking back, he saw a doe-eyed Elsie waiting for him to lay with her. He wasn't prepared to say anything to her just yet, but he was quickly falling in love with the girl.

He crushed out his cigarette on the ashtray by the bed, and lay down next to her, smiling as she rolled onto her side and laid her head on his chest, her arm spread across his bare torso. She kissed his chest and closed her eyes to go to sleep as he began to stroke her head.

"I like what you've done with your hair, by the way," he commented, as if only just noticing.

For no particular reason, Elsie laughed.

* * *

When she awoke the following morning, Elsie found that she felt more rested than she had in weeks; though this always seemed to be the case when she slept beside Hugo. She sat up and thought about what had happened the previous night, trying to determine why her mind would still be going back to those terrible moments in the prison. She knew why she hadn't responded to Hugo, even after fantasizing about that moment with him for so long – she simply hadn't been in the moment, trying instead to distance her mind completely from what was being done to her physically. She had to find a way to overcome her problem, if not for her own sake, then for Hugo's. She wanted to be with him so badly, to be able to have that truly close bond with him.

Sliding off of the bed, she went to the bathroom to have a shower. Not too many bathrooms had showers at that time, only baths, but she was glad to have found one of the few places that did. As she stepped under the water, the warmth flooding over her soothingly, she heard the bathroom door open slowly. Peeking out from behind the shower curtain, Elsie saw Hugo standing halfway in the doorway as though unsure if he should join her. Pulling back the shower curtain completely, revealing her naked, dripping body, she gestured with an outstretched arm, for him to join her. He did so without hesitation.

Standing against one another under the water, kissing, Elsie felt him hard against her and knew that she still wasn't ready. But there were other ways to please a man...

Smiling, she slid her hands down his body from his shoulders to his thighs, lowering herself to the right level. Hugo closed his eyes as he felt the pleasing sensation grip his body. When she eventually stood back up, Elsie faced a smiling Hugo, who pulled her close and kissed her again. She could have stayed there under the running water, leaning up against him forever, but a sudden knock at the hotel room door ended any possibility of that happening. Elsie hopped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around herself and went to answer it.

"Who is it?" she called through the door.

"Hotel service, would you like to have some breakfast brought up to you?"

Elsie bit her lip and turned back to the bathroom, finding Hugo naked in the bathroom doorway, arms crossed as he leant against the door frame. She smirked and turned to face the door once more, giving an order of food to the person on the other side. Around fifteen minutes later, they had continental breakfasts brought up to them with sides of bacon and eggs, complete with fresh orange juice.

"What are your plans for today?" Hugo asked as they lay on the bed together once more, bodies completely satiated.

"I was thinking of just taking a walk. Seeing where I end up," she replied, "You?"

"I need to go back to my own room first, but I think we should have lunch somewhere."

"Actually, I have an idea where we could go. I'll have to go and scout it out, but I've heard of this place that might be alright."

She sat up and slid to the edge of the bed. She had dressed in more of her new clothes, this time a white cotton dress that reached mid-calf with a light-grey cardigan over it to evade the cold weather. As she stood up, she put on a pair of similarly grey heels and waited as Hugo gathered his things to leave. He paused close to her in the doorway before he left and she kissed him quickly, but teasingly. A happy man, he walked down the hall and towards the building's exit.

* * *

Just as Hugo pulled open the door to his own hotel building, Donny had been about do the same thing from the other side. The two men stared at each other. Donny noticed Hugo was in the same clothes as the day before, and noted the direction he had come from. He did not look pleased. The men remained where they were, in a silent stand-off.

"If you laid a hand on her-" Donny began, but he was cut off by a passing German soldier, who politely asked them for the time.

Needless to say, both Basterds redirected their burning scowls at the soldier, who glanced from one man to the other and quickly made the smart decision to keep walking.  
Although no further words were exchanged, their brief conflict was neither resolved, nor forgotten by either man.

* * *

Standing on a corner, Elsie stared over at the restaurant that sat across the street. Renamed after the German takeover, _Das Reine Herz_ ('The Pure Heart'), had been recommended to Elsie by several of the residents she'd spoken to while walking the city streets. Though it was widely known to be the restaurant of choice for many Nazi officers posted in Paris, Elsie knew she was unlikely to be recognized or given any trouble were she to have lunch there. Her dining partner, however, was a different story.

Deciding that it would be safer to select a different dining establishment, Elsie turned to walk back to the hotel. She froze. The glowing smile she had been sporting dropped like a bird shot from a tree. She took a step backwards, but found herself on the edge of the walkway, and suddenly felt trapped.

"Elsie Marigold. Or, sorry, what is it you go by now? 'Cécille Amour'?" the man asked, speaking German.

Steadying her breathing, she gave no reply.

It had only been a matter of time before she ran into Major Hellstrom again.

He was dressed to the absolute Nazi-nines: hat, immaculate uniform, leather trench coat, complete with a red swastika armband.

"It's been a while since we last saw one another," he said, "We need to catch up, I think."

Elsie's expression remained void of emotion. Glancing at the Major's face, she saw mock-concern in his eyes. Two German soldiers stood behind him by his car.

"What's wrong, Elsie? Weren't expecting anyone to recognize you? Even with that hair and the more feminine clothes – both of which look very good on you, I might add – who you are is… unmistakable."

That fucking smug grin. The compliment made her stomach twist.

"I noticed you admiring _Das Reine Herz_. I've been there myself a number of times. It's actually quite a fine establishment, even if it was originally French owned."

He paused and observed her with a look of contemplation.

"You know, it wouldn't be right for a young woman such as yourself to dine alone. And seeing as I too have no one with which to share my lunch, why don't we solve this little conundrum with some mutual co-operation?"

Elsie wanted to run, but now that she had been discovered in the city, it was likely that Hellstrom knew that the others would be hiding out, too. She would have to endure his cruelty for a little longer, or risk putting them all in danger.

"So? What do you say? Come on, give me an answer. I like hearing your voice. It's got such an unusual sound, and although I like to think I have a very strong ear for accents, I must say, yours is very peculiar. It's not often that I'm stumped by someone, but you prove to be the exception."

He smiled at her.

"I suppose 'nein' isn't an option," she finally spoke.

"Nein," he replied, his smile becoming a little darker, then he smirked. "I hear Stiglitz is part of your 'team' now, too. I suppose he would've followed you anywhere after seeing you as you were in that basement. Any man would have."

Elsie fought the urge to leap onto him and rip out his throat with her bare hands. Keeping her eyes on him, using her gaze to distract him, her hand crept up towards her purse. It was _just_ big enough to fit a very small gun inside, one of the reasons that she had chosen it. But as she slowly began to open it, a hand seized the bag and took it away. One of Hellstrom's men stood behind her and opened up the bag, showing his superior the item that sat inside. Hellstrom shook his head at Elsie with a condescending 'tut-tut'.

Great, she thought, disarmed in more ways than one.

"All I'm asking is that you sit with me and enjoy a meal in a restaurant that you seemed to already be planning on eating in anyway. After that, your friends live and you're free to go."

She stared at him in surprise. The phrase 'Too good to be true' popped into her head and flashed like a big neon sign.

"I can't even believe you expect me to trust you," she spat.

"Well, you don't have much of a choice. Besides, I'm a man of my word."

Her eyes narrowed at that.

"Come on, Elsie. One meal. Then you'll never see me again."

He was lying through his Nazi teeth, but what choice did she have? It was an hour or so of torture, or the execution of her nearest and dearest friends. She had no choice. She never really did when he was around.

Despising herself entirely, she gave a tiny, reluctant signal that she would comply. She had to remind herself that she would lose much more if she didn't.

"Wünderbar," he grinned, managing to look genuinely pleased.

Walking into the restaurant, the pair appeared the perfect couple; a high-ranking Nazi officer and his French love interest. At least that's how they looked to those seated inside. In reality it was a high-ranking Nazi officer and the girl he had tortured and raped.

Hellstrom acted the perfect gentleman, removing his hat and placing it on the table before pulling out Elsie's chair for her and pushing it in as she sat down.

It was absurd.

Taking off his trench coat, he placed it on the back of his chair before taking a seat across from the agitated young woman. Elsie was seated with her back towards the entrance, strategic placement on Hellstrom's behalf, as he wanted to be the one to know who was coming and going through those doors. The last thing he wanted was to have his back to any incoming threats.  
Looking across at his dining partner, he realized that there was no way he was going to get a conversation out of her any time soon, but that didn't mean he wouldn't try.

"May I take your order?" a waiter asked in German, as he paused at their table.

"After you," Hellstrom said to Elsie, but she gave no reply, staring in the opposite direction. "Perhaps some apple juice? Apple strudel?" he suggested with a smirk.

So he had heard of her ordeal in the orchard.

Elsie turned to look at him, hatred burning in her eyes. She glanced at the waiter.

"Whisky," is all she told him.

"Not really a lady's drink," Hellstrom commented, "How about champagne?"

"Whisky," she repeated to the waiter, this time with a slight edge to her voice. The waiter nodded and looked over at Hellstrom, who seemed to be enjoying Elsie's defiance.

"Steak and a beer for me. Bring the young lady a salad," he told the waiter.

The waiter walked off with their order and Hellstrom attempted to capture Elsie's gaze again. She quickly averted her eyes, bringing back the Major's smug grin. He looked up to the doors of the restaurant as they opened to emit a new person. Hellstrom froze and glanced at Elsie, who was holding the knife from the table in front of her and looking at it very thoughtfully. She smiled at it and then looked at Hellstrom, but his sudden change of expression alarmed her.

"I think you should go to the bathroom," he told her. She frowned at him and had no idea what he was talking about.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Go to the bathroom and freshen up," he ordered, emphasizing every word. There were no more traces of humor in his eyes.

It was such an unusual request that she did exactly as he told her.

Once she had reached the inside of the bathroom, she stood by the door and held it open a crack to observe Hellstrom at their table. She heard a number of chairs scrape back as their occupants stood and clicked their heels together in salute of some unknown person. She watched as Hellstrom rose obediently to salute none other than Colonel Landa. Elsie's hand flew to her mouth.

"Oberst Landa," Hellstrom greeted.

"Major Hellstrom, pleased to see you once again," came the reply. Landa observed the table the Major occupied and noticed it was set for two. "And where is your dining partner?"

"She went to visit the bathroom. I'm afraid she's not feeling well," Hellstrom replied.

"How unfortunate. I would very much like to have met her. Is she German?"

"No. French," Hellstrom told him.

Landa nodded with approval and looked around the room as though he thought the Major could be hiding her somewhere. Elsie quickly closed the bathroom door. She leant back against it, hand still over her mouth, feeling confused. Hellstrom had just protected her from being discovered by Landa. What the hell was his objective in all this?

Watching as Landa and Hellstrom said their farewells after a very brief conversation, Elsie waited until the Colonel had departed from the building and everyone had relaxed into their natural dining states once more. She walked out from the bathroom and Hellstrom glanced up at her, looking quite thoughtful.

Without him even telling her to, Elsie sat back down and found that their orders had been placed on the table already. She stared down at her whiskey, then back up to the man across from her. A silence fell between them that was strangely unaggressive.

"Elsie, I need to say something to you," Hellstrom began. He seemed to be thinking of the best way to put what he wanted to say, staring down at his beer as he used one finger to wipe at the condensation.

Elsie said nothing. She waited.

"What happened between us...I wish it had been under different circumstances."

Elsie's brow twisted in synch with her stomach.

It sounded almost like Hellstrom was attempting an apology. But it didn't matter how he decided to phrase it, Elsie would never accept any excuse for what he had done to her. Yet she felt something lifting from her mind. That heavy cloak of repressed terror was unraveling. But it had taken this moment, a face to face encounter with her attacker, to do it.

"Perhaps, if the war had not begun – though I can't say that I object to it – I may have travelled to France on other business and we could have met as two normal people. But it simply was not to be."

Elsie stared at him, speechless. Was he really saying this? Was he _honestly_ getting at what she thought he was getting at?

He was.

"Let's start over. What do you say?"

With her fear of him quickly ebbing away, the old Elsie broke through.

"Okay, you play the big German farmer and I'll play the innocent young milkmaid."

She drank her whiskey in one go, not even grimacing at strong burn it left. Like Hugo, she had developed a tolerance.

Hellstrom didn't seem to mind the idea too much, watching Elsie while he took a mouthful of his beer.

"I'm serious," he told her, "I would take it all back if I could."

"That's what they all say."

"What all who say?"

"Murderers, rapists...German soldiers we question before we kill them. And, hell, I think you might just fit into all three categories."

His smug grin made its reappearance. He was actually finding her comments entertaining.  
Neither person had touched their meals, nor were likely to so. Hellstrom couldn't care less about actually having lunch. He was more interested in the young woman sitting across from him. Unfortunately, as he caught sight of the time on the clock nearby, he found that their time together had reached its end. Landa had specified what time he needed to pick up the girl from the cinema to bring her to the meeting with Goebbels. It was reaching that time now.

"Do you have somewhere to be?" Elsie asked with mock concern.

He sighed deeply and smiled. He was actually sorry to have to leave.

"Colonel Landa gave me orders. I believe you and he have met before?"

"Mm, yeah. It was a memorable occasion," she replied her gaze still trained firmly on him.

He chuckled and stood up, taking out money for their meals and placing it on the table, before putting on his jacket and hat. Then he walked to her side of the table, took her hand and kissed it before she could object, saying, "Until next time."

He had broken his word already.

Watching Hellstrom leave, Elsie wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. The entire experience had been so absurd. But the Nazi officer had done her a favor; she no longer felt the fear she once had towards him. He wasn't the monster she had made him out to be every time she recalled the events in the basement. He was just a pathetic, twisted little man, and he could die just like any other man could. A theory she hoped she would soon put into practice.


	11. Chapter 11: Paris, Je T'aime! - Part Two

**Chapter 11: París, Je T'aime – Pt.2**

In this chapter:

· Luck!

· The boys

· Bad pseudonyms

· Donny

· A few truths

· Hugo

· Better sex

· An evening stroll

· A movie poster

· Coffee

· A second undesired run-in

· An invitation

* * *

There was no chance that Elsie would be telling Hugo about her afternoon, though it would be inevitable that he would ask where she had been, since they had planned on having lunch together.

So much for that.

She had been walking back from _The Pure Heart_ without much concern as to where she was going, too lost in her thoughts to even notice. Observing the area now, Elsie realized she had unwittingly strolled into the neighborhood that a few of the other Basterds were staying in.

Not including her hotel, they were spread out across three others, in an effort to make it harder for the enemy to find them, should they be discovered in the city. The hotel she now approached housed Wilhelm, Hirschberg, Utivich and Omar, though she had no idea what rooms they were staying in.

She approached the front desk with a polite smile.

"Bonjour," the woman behind the desk greeted.

"Bonjour. My brother told me he was staying in this hotel, but he didn't mention which room," she replied, in French.

Elsie suddenly realized that if the receptionist were to ask her what her brother's name was, she would have no idea. The Basterds hadn't exchanged their pseudonyms before going their own separate ways, which would have been the smart thing to do.

 _Great plan, Elsie_ , she told herself.

"Your name?" the lady asked.

Elsie heaved an inner sigh of relief. "Cécille Amour."

"Jean-Claude Amour? He is your brother, yes?"

She was referring to a list of names of those staying in the hotel as she looked up at Elsie, who quickly checked her surprised expression and turned it to one of calm recognition. If she said yes, she could end up at the room of a total stranger. But if luck was on her side, one of the Basterds could have used the same surname as her. It was a massive leap of faith.

Elsie hoped Lady Luck was about to pay her dues. And after the way her afternoon had gone, she really owed the poor girl.

"Oui, that's him."

"He's on the third floor. Room 314."

"Merci," Elsie thanked her, heading for the elevator.

She waited a moment for the doors to open before stepping into the small space and pressing the shiny button number '3'. The doors 'dinged' closed and as it began moving upward, Elsie let out a soft sigh, tapping her fingers against her purse.

The lift stopped at the second floor, and opened to let in a uniformed German soldier. He offered a friendly smile and Elsie forced one back.

She was getting pretty good at doing that.

The awkward ten second ride up to the third floor made Elsie glad to step out of the elevator and onto steady ground, despite the fact that she was now facing the unknown. As the elevator doors shut behind her with an ominous 'DING', she gazed down the empty hallway. She began walking towards room 314. As she passed room 308, she could've sworn she heard a familiar voice shouting at someone.

314.

She stared at the silver number set on the white door before finally knocking, wanting nothing more than to get it over and done with.

After a painstaking few seconds, Wilhelm opened the door, surprised to see his visitor.

"Oh, thank Christ!"

She hugged him and he hugged her back in deep confusion.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, as they broke away from one another.

"Yeah, yeah, it's fine. Funny story, you're my brother now, apparently," Elsie explained.

"I see," he replied, raising an eyebrow. Then he smiled, "You look nice."

Coming from Wilhelm, this was a compliment and nothing more. She liked that about him.

"Thanks," she replied.

"Do you want to come in?"

"Sure," she said, but before she could even take a step forward, a door opened nearby.

"Is that Elsie?"

Elsie put her hand over her eyes in irritation.

"No, it's Cécille!" she called back, as she turned her head in the direction of the voice, rolling her eyes.

Hirschberg stepped out of his room, 308, as did Utivich.

"Are you two sharing a room?" she asked them with laughter in her voice.

"No. Mr. Snails here was 'bored' apparently," Hirschberg replied, jabbing his thumb in the direction of Utivich, who stood a few steps behind him.

"Mr. Snails?"

Standing behind her, leaning against his door's frame, Wilhelm let out a chuckle.  
Elsie looked back at him, and then turned her attention once more to the other two Basterds. She looked to Utivich for an answer, but he didn't seem to want to give one.

"Tell her your name," Hirschberg urged.

"Pierre...Escargot."

Elsie bit her lip to keep from laughing, even as Hirschberg snickered loudly.

"Why...what made you choose _that_ name?" Elsie inquired.

"It sounded French," Utivich replied defensively.

"And how hard did the receptionist laugh when you told her it?"

She was unable to control her laughter any longer.

"Oh, shut up!" Utivich told them, "At least it isn't as bad as yours."

Elsie looked at Hirschberg.

"What's yours?"

"Mine's not bad," he told Utivich.

"'George Washington'? I thought we didn't want them to know that we're American!"

"At the volume you two are talking, I wouldn't be surprised if this whole floor already knew," Elsie told them both.

"Fuck that," Hirschberg said, not bothering to lower his voice after Elsie's warning, "My name still beats yours _and_ Ulmer's."

Elsie glanced at Utivich.

"Fred Astaire," he answered without her having even need ask.

"You called?"

Omar stuck his head out from behind his door across the hall.

He joined the four in the hallway who were either smiling or laughing at his entrance.

"Fred Astaire?" Elsie asked, eyebrows raised.

"Hey, the man can dance," he replied with a small shrug.

Hirschberg was staring at Elsie with a small frown and then raised his gaze to meet hers.

"Have you been eating lately or what?" he asked her. He stepped forward and gave her a sharp poke in the ribs.

"Ow! What the fuck? Was that really necessary?"

She had always been thin as a girl, rather lanky actually, but after all that she had been through – from the week in the orchard, to her months of travel on rations – Elsie had lost a lot of weight. She had even noticed her ribs poking through a little bit when she had showered that morning. Hugo had as well, having run his fingers over them with a look of concern.

"Oh, someone's thinking something dirty," Hirschberg commented, in a sing-song voice.

This brought Elsie back from her thoughts in an instant.

"What?" She blinked a few times as though coming out of a trance. Thinking back to that shower had caused her mind to drift…

"Was it about me?" Hirschberg joked, "Be honest."

Sensing an awkward situation brewing, Wilhelm stepped in.

"Have you had lunch yet, Elsie?"

She thought back to her untouched meal in the restaurant. She hadn't eaten since morning, and only then realized how hungry she actually was, a hint of nausea threatening to turn if she didn't get some food in her soon.

"You know, we just ordered a shitload of stuff to my room. You can just eat with us," Hirschberg offered.

He would never actually admit the fact that he had been missing Elsie's company. She was like the sister he had always wanted.

Omar and Utivich looked to her, waiting for her to accept the offer.

"Oh, okay," she gave in.

* * *

Wondering if Hirschberg hadn't ordered one of everything on the menu, Elsie scooped a little bit from each dish onto her plate before sitting back against the head post of the bed next to him. Utivich and Omar sat on the ground with their backs against the wall and Wilhelm occupied the room's only chair.

"Where are you staying?" Utivich asked Elsie.

"Same hotel as Donny?" Omar guessed.

Wilhelm and Elsie exchanged the briefest of glances before she answered.

"No. It's this little place down by the river."

"Oh," is all Omar replied, focusing on his food.

"Am I the only one who finds it boring as shit in this town?" Hirschberg asked everyone, "All the best girls are with krauts, I fucking hate shopping and everything's in French."

"You're in France," Utivich reminded him.

As she took a mouthful of chicken, Elsie considered how her stay had been far more eventful so far.

"It's easy for you," Hirschberg went on, this time directing his flow of comments at Elsie, "You can just go out and buy some dresses, or take a nice stroll by the river, 'cos you can understand French! And judging by that look you had on your mug before, new clothes aren't the only thing you've had on you."

They all looked at her, eager for her reply, except for Wilhelm who took it upon himself to once again rescue her from another potentially awkward situation.

"How did you know which floor we were on?" he asked.

Elsie explained what had happened at the front desk and her leap of faith that she would be going to the right room.

"How did you choose your name, anyway?" she asked him.

"We passed a film poster on the way into the city. 'L'Amour de Paris'."

Elsie smiled. It was the same way she had selected her surname.

"Great minds, huh?"

"That's what they say," Wilhelm replied.

"You look weir-...different, without your uniform," Utivich commented to Elsie.

"I never wore a uniform," she pointed out, "but I thought I'd get some dress-wearing in before the week's over. Who know how long this shitstorm's going to last?"

A heavy silence fell over them as their separate thoughts drifted; family back home, things they had seen and done. And the most plaguing thought: death in the line of duty.

But Hirschberg, Utivich, Elsie and Omar needn't have worried about such a thing – at least not yet. After all, it was Wilhelm who had only three more days left to live.

* * *

Now no longer hungry (though that slightly queasy feeling still lingered – she put it down to overeating), Elsie walked back to her hotel. She stopped on the pathway and observed the building on her left; the one in which Donny and Hugo were staying. Rubbing the nail of her index finger over the pad of her thumb, she made the decision to go inside; not to find Hugo, but to see Donny.

She missed the hell out of him.

This time, before approaching the front desk, Elsie thought ahead.  
What name would Donny have used?

She wracked her brain trying to think, and his baseball bat suddenly flashed into her mind.

Baseball...baseball...

She recalled the last time she had watched him beat someone to death with it and his commentary afterwards. She chuckled to herself before the answer suddenly came to her.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for Mr. Williams? Theodore Williams?"

"We have a 'Ted E. Williams?" the receptionist replied.

"Oui."

"Urm...Room 219," the woman replied, as she glanced at the guest list in front of her behind the desk.

"Merci," Elsie grinned.

* * *

Donny lay on his bed, hands behind his head, deep in thought, when he heard a knock at his door. Picking up his bat from its resting spot against the bedside table, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and approached with caution.

"Who is it?" he asked, bat poised and ready.

"Room service," a familiar voice replied.

Lowering the bat, Donny opened the door to find Elsie looking down the hallway as though she hadn't heard the door unlock. She turned to him and smiled.

"Need anything serviced?"

She laughed and hugged him before entering the room.

Closing the door, he watched her look around before she finally took a seat at the end of his bed. She looked up to see why he was still by the door.

As Donny walked over, placing his bat back against the table, he made a mental note not to bring Stiglitz up at all. If _she_ mentioned him, only then would he say what he had to.

But it was hard to be angry at someone he cared so much about.

He lay back down on the bed.

"You boys stay in your rooms all day?" Elsie said, more of a comment than a question.

"What the fuck else is there to do? It's the first real break we've had. I'd rather stay in, eating real food and having a real, warm shower than fuck around out there with the Frogs."

"So you've been in here the whole time?"

"Not the whole time. But like I said: what else is there to do? Whatta you been doin'?"

He willed her to bring up Stiglitz, just so he could say what he had to and get it off of his chest.

"Shopping, walking around. I saw a movie last night," she told him.

"Any good?"

She made a noise that said 'not bad'.

"Then I went to a jazz club with Hugo. That was fun."

She knew she was on thin ice with that remark, but she waited to see his reaction.

"And what happened after that?" he responded, voice tight.

If he was going to act like a fucking child, then Elsie was going to reply accordingly.

"He walked me back to my hotel and kissed me goodnight."

Donny stared at her, but hate in his eyes was for Stiglitz, not her.

"So you finally did it, huh?"

"Kissed?"

"You know exactly what I mean," he said, a little angrier than he meant to.

"Not quite," Elsie replied, her voice soft as she recalled what had happened.

"Yeah. I bet he couldn't even get it up."

She rolled her eyes. It was time to tell him. If she didn't, he would go on like this forever.

"Donny… I was raped."

He sat up so quickly that Elsie moved a little further off the bed. Rage filled his eyes and he clenched his jaw. His gaze met hers.

"By Stiglitz?"

Elsie frowned in disgust, "What? No! In the prison."

Donny paused a moment, too furious to even speak.

"By who?"

"An officer that was passing through."

"Does Stiglitz know about this?"

"Yeah. He nearly witnessed it. He tried to kill the man before he could try anything, but they dragged him out. He got in one good punch, though."

Donny suddenly felt new respect for Stiglitz.

He slid across the bed to sit next to Elsie, who was staring blankly ahead, but was not actually too upset. After seeing Hellstrom again, she had finally been given the chance to face what had been done to her, rather than allowing it to fester away in her subconscious. Hellstrom wasn't the scary boogeyman she had conjured up in her mind; he was a flesh-and-blood person not worthy of being called a man. That was all. With this new outlook on things, she felt that she could finally get on with her life – not without some difficulty, but it was something.

Donny, on the other hand, could not let this go.

"It's my fault," he said.

Elsie turned her head to look at him.

"What?"

"Why the fuck did I think it would be funny to put you in that dress?"

"I don't blame you for what happened." She couldn't believe that he thought it was his fault.

She took his hand in hers and their eyes met. His were still filled with anger, but now it was for himself. Her confession was still sinking in for him, the guilt continuing to build as he thought of all the times he'd teasingly called her a whore, or made comments about her breasts.

"I am a fucking idiot."

"But you're a lovable fucking idiot," Elsie smiled.

"I should've known," he said.

"Should've known what?"

"That I shoulda made you mine while I had the chance."

Elsie raised her eyebrows, but only half-heartedly. His confession was no surprise to her; she had known all along.

"Now that ex-kraut's got ya. He better treat you right, I tell ya. If he steps outta line once; I'll break his German fuckin' neck."

"Aw, Donny," Elsie teased him for saying such sweet things. It just wasn't his style; nor was it hers. She let go of his hand and shoved him so that he fell back onto the bed. He lay there as she remained seated and he stared up at her.

He really did wish he had been smart enough to do what his heart and head had told him (not to mention certain other parts of his body), but his moments of hesitation had left him out of the picture. Out of her picture, at least. But not completely.

The moment before she left, Elsie hugged him close once more. He planted a kiss on the top of her head and she raised an eyebrow at him, an expression that was accompanied by a small smile.

As she walked away, he couldn't help but wish that something would come along that would take Stiglitz out of the picture.

Flopping down on his bed, he thought of nothing besides the girl he now knew he was in love with.

* * *

When Elsie opened the door to her room, Hugo was already in there, lying on the bed smoking a cigarette, one hand behind his head. Elsie closed the door and leaned back against it with her arms folded against her chest.

Hugo smiled.

"How did you get in here?" she asked.

"The same way I got into the rooms of all those Gestapo officers," he replied mischievously.

So he was in _that_ kind of mood, huh? Good.

He propped himself up on one elbow and looked at her invitingly.

"Where did you get to today? I thought we were having lunch together."

There it was. The inevitable question. And her inevitable lie.

"Sorry. I got sidetracked. Do you feel like eating now?"

"Depends what I'm eating."

For the first time in a long time, Elsie felt herself blush.

He chuckled at her reaction and put out his cigarette in the ashtray.

"I'm just going to go change."

She headed for the bathroom door, but didn't even hear him get up. Before she could reach her destination, he had wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Why?"

"This is a new dress", she replied.

"What are you expecting to get on it?"

She turned around, still in his grasp, and furrowed her brow a little. But she was enjoying the filth coming out of his mouth; a little too much, perhaps.

"You don't have to go to the bathroom to change," he whispered close to her ear. She stepped back and he let go of her, watching as she kicked off her heels and turned her back to him.

"Unzip me," she asked, looking back at him with innocent eyes.

He did so very slowly, sliding it down over her shoulders and grabbing it at the bottom hem, pulling it the rest of the way down. He ran his fingers along her thighs, up to her sides.

"I had an idea," he told her, before kissing up the back of her shoulder and up her neck.

"What might that have been?" she asked, closing her eyes and focusing on the sensation of his hands on her skin. His stubble felt rough against her cheek.

"You'll find out," he smiled, "All you have to do is lay back. Let me do the rest."

She smiled at him suspiciously as she did what he said, laying back on the soft bed. Still clothed, he knelt down at the end of the bed, grabbed her by the legs and pulled her towards him. She let out a little cry at his unexpected move and looked down at him to see what he was up to. He kissed up her leg and she closed her eyes once more as he reached her inner thigh. She allowed him to take down her underwear and glanced down at him just in time to see his very sly smirk before it disappeared between her legs.

* * *

Feeling weak at the knees, but more relaxed than she had felt for quite a while, Elsie took another evening stroll outside, leaving Hugo to rest peaceful and smiling on her bed. They were yet to go as far as she wanted to, but she thought she might be ready. She just needed some night air, first.

Taking the same route as always, she drew closer to the cinema. She thought of going inside to say hello to the young girl once more, but noticed a group of people inside that stopped her in her tracks.

The young girl was one of them, as well as the young German soldier who had returned her forgotten purse to her. Another woman walked amongst them, walking a big, black poodle and looking extremely French in her over-the-top, leopard-print outfit. The last two to make up the group were the ones that left Elsie truly speechless.

One of them was Major Hellstrom, who was smiling and laughing at what was being said by the man beside him, a man who appeared to be...Joseph Goebbels: the Minister of Propaganda himself. She recognized him from his picture in that morning's newspaper, a German-printed paper that praised him for his many successful propaganda films. Now that she was part of a military outfit, she had taken it upon herself to learn as much as she could about the enemy – and she was yet to see a newspaper or poster that didn't praise Hitler's favorite minister.

What the hell was _he_ doing there?

Frowning, Elsie watched as the group left the cinema, most of them saying their farewells to the young blonde girl. The soldier turned to look over his shoulder at her, with one last smile before following the others down the road. The girl watched them get into two cars and drive away before she went back inside, clearly edgy from their visit.

But who wouldn't be?

Elsie continued her walk down the cinema's street, stopping in front of a large movie poster that had been put up on the wall. The actor featured on it looked oddly familiar.

Hearing footsteps heading towards her, Elsie turned around and saw that the young soldier had remained behind. She glanced from him to the poster and then did a double take.

So that's why she had recognized him in the cinema. She had walked past this poster a number of times before, but it was only now that she realized that this young man and the actor from the film the poster advertised were, in fact, the same person.

He chuckled lightly at her realization.

"I didn't realize that you were a film star," she told him in French.

He gave a humble shake of his head and glanced up at the poster.

"That? That is not me. Not the real me," he said.

Elsie had to admit, she was a little intrigued about who this guy was.

"Can I ask what the film is about?"

He seemed to consider her for a moment, glancing up at the poster thoughtfully, and then looked back at her.

"Would you like to have some coffee with me? Perhaps I can explain it then?"

She hesitated. He didn't have the same dark glint in his eyes that made Hellstrom so villainous. In fact, this boy looked incapable of harming anyone, with his innocent expression and charismatic smile. She couldn't see the harm in it.

"Where are my manners? My name is Fredrick Zoller."

Elsie nodded, throwing a meaningful glance up at the poster, which had FREDRICK ZOLLER written across it in huge letters. He gave another polite chuckle.

"Cécille Amour," Elsie replied.

"There's a café not far from here. _Das Reine Herz_. Have you been there?"

Silently, Elsie groaned, but she gave a smile and nodded.

"Oui."

He held out his elbow for her to take, and she did, feeling very strange for doing so.

* * *

Elsie was becoming almost a regular at _The Pure Heart_ , with each visit somehow managing to include a uniformed German soldier. She was hoping not to make it a habit.

Fredrick was pleasant enough, but this wasn't really how she had planned on spending her evening; getting to know a Nazi who was celebrated in Germany for killing a large number of American soldiers. As he explained to her what it was he had done to become such a celebrity, she did her best to conceal her feelings of growing disbelief.

The boy had no idea that he was revealing all of this to an American.

She was glad he talked mostly about himself, though he didn't come across as entirely obnoxious; she would rather hear about him than have to make up answers to questions about herself.

He was now telling her about his upcoming film and how it had been Goebbels' idea to have him star in it as himself. Elsie just sat and nodded, listening and drinking her coffee.

Finally, he seemed to draw his explanation to a close, but from the way he was speaking it seemed as though he had other intentions besides bringing her there for a coffee.

"I actually had something I wanted to ask," he began.

But before he could let his reasons for bringing her there be known, they were interrupted.

Fredrick stood up from his seat and saluted someone standing behind Elsie.

"Major Hellstrom," he greeted.

Elsie squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, asking God why it was that he taunted her so, but remembering herself, she glanced around at the officer.

Hellstrom saluted Fredrick back very briefly before focusing his attention on the young man's coffee partner. She could read very clearly the pleasure he was getting from this more subtle form of torture.

"Minister Goebbels wanted me to see where you had gotten to," he explained to the young private in their native tongue. "I see that you've discovered Cécille."

He smiled at her like an old friend. She smiled back grimly.

"Oh, you two know each other?" Fredrick asked, delighted.

"We've met before," Hellstrom said.

Looking down at Elsie, who was still seated, Fredrick realized that she probably didn't understand a word of what they were saying.

"Sorry," he began, but he was cut off by Hellstrom, who quickly caught on.

"It's okay. She understands German."

"How clever," Fredrick commented, with a suave smile.

Elsie raised her eyebrows at him behind his back and rolled her eyes, feeling like an animal that had learned a party trick.

Hellstrom caught her expression and smirked.

She waited for this visit of his to have a point. Was that too much to ask for?

"Well, seeing as you both know each other, I hope I'm not stealing your date for the premiere," Fredrick said to Hellstrom.

Elsie tried not to look too disturbed by this statement.

"I hadn't had the opportunity to ask," Hellstrom replied.

Elsie stiffened in her seat and stared down at her coffee, waiting to see how Fredrick would respond to this.

"Oh..."

Hellstrom gave his statement another few seconds to truly sink, reveling in the expression on Elsie's face, before adding, "I'm joking. I wouldn't deprive the star of such a wonderful escort."

The way he used the word 'escort' made Elsie glare up at him, the reaction he had been fishing for.

Fredrick turned back to Elsie with what was fast becoming his signature smile, polite and somewhat charming, and finally got to the point of his invitation to coffee.

"Cécille? Would you do me the pleasure of being my date for the premiere of my film?"

Elsie had no answer for him. There was nothing she could think of that would be more fun than attending an evening of Nazi propaganda and meeting all of Hitler's most esteemed Reich members, except maybe spending the night locked in her hotel room, slowly hacking off her own limbs with a blunt axe.

But she couldn't tell him 'no', knowing she would come across as rude, and although Elsie rarely cared if she was coming across as rude to anyone, she felt it would be better in this particular case, if she were to remain polite in the eyes of this young man.

For all she knew, being on good terms with him could come in handy one day.

Hellstrom stared at her, entertained to see her in such a tight spot, and Elsie realized that turning Frederick down could have even worse consequences; it could open her up to an invitation from Hellstrom.

She quickly thought of the best response.

"I would have to check with my father. He's very strict when it comes to things like this. Could I give you my answer in a couple of days?" she said.

Frederick smiled, "Of course, I understand. Shall we meet back in two days' time? At say... nine o'clock?"

"Ja," Elsie told him, relieved.

"Excellent," he replied, kissing her hand goodbye and placing some money on the table for both of their drinks, "Until then."

Fredrick walked past Hellstrom, who remained behind to give Elsie one last smug grin. She saluted him mockingly, using mainly her middle-finger.

He left the restaurant chuckling, while Elsie gathered her things to prepare to go.

Hugo was probably waiting.

* * *

Indeed he was, but not where she had expected him to be.

He was outside the hotel building, leaning back against the wall, smoking, as she approached.

"What are you doing out here?" she asked. It was just about freezing and although he was in a heavy jacket and a scarf, she couldn't really see any reason why he would choose to be outside.

"Waiting for you," he replied.

"You couldn't do that inside?"

"I wanted to tell you something. It felt more right to do it out here."

The sky was looking overcast, even in the dark of the night. There was a storm brewing, the electricity crackling in the air.

"What would that be?" she asked him.

She was still standing a few steps away from him. He took one last, long draw on the cigarette, dropped it to the ground and crushed it out with his boot. He looked up at the sky and blew the smoke out from before moving his gaze back to Elsie.

"That I love you," he told her simply.

There was a moment before she replied where a little voice in her head whispered, ' _This isn't right. You weren't supposed to hear those words from_ _him_ ', but she ignored it, instead smiling sweetly.

"I love you, too," she returned, as she moved towards him, "and I had this idea..."


	12. Chapter 12: The Bar in the Basement

**Chapter 12: The Bar in the Basement**

In this chapter:

· Discovery

· A proposition from Britain

· Rendezvous

· A good-bye

· Radio translation

· A shoot-out

* * *

It was very tiring spending a full day inside, doing nothing but making love to a man, Elsie quickly discovered.

She was so exhausted that she couldn't bring herself to do more than lay naked on her hotel room bed, lazily smoking a cigarette.  
In the bathroom, shaving his face in front of the mirror, Hugo stuck his head out the door for a moment just to see what she was doing. She rolled over and sighed, staring up at the ceiling. She crossed one leg over the other and started to feel her eyes droop.

He smiled and went back to his shaving.

Finally managing to drag herself to a sitting position, Elsie decided that a shower was in order. Her muscles were aching and she felt weak and sweaty. Perhaps a bath would be better.

She pulled herself to the edge of the bed and very slowly made an attempt to stand up, putting out her cigarette on the way up. She swayed a little as she stood up, groaning as she did, feeling slightly off-balanced. Hugo poked his head out from the bathroom again and laughed at her lack of co-ordination. She scowled at him for making fun of her, and slowly made her way towards him.

She turned on the taps to fill up the bath, let the water run over her hands and then brought them up through her hair, flattening it too look a little less messy.

Feeling arms around her waist, she made a sound of protest.

"You just don't quit, do you?" she asked, pulling out of his grasp.

"What's wrong?" he chuckled.

"I'm so tired, I could collapse right now. But I'd rather it be in the bathtub than on the floor."

He smiled at her and she kissed him.

Their lips parted as she gasped, catching sight of her back in the mirror. It was the first time she had ever truly seen the scars from the whip. Some of them crisscrossed and a few stood out more than others, but in Elsie's eyes, they were simply a reminder of her worst experience.

Hugo gently turned her head to face him instead of the mirror, his eyes offering her some comfort. She smiled at him weakly and remembered the bath behind her. The water had reached the three quarter mark, and she felt that was about sufficient. Turning off the taps, she got in and sank down into it, relaxing immediately and feeling the ache in her muscles slowly ebb away.

A stomach cramp hit her suddenly and she breathed in sharply through her teeth.

"Everything okay over there?" Hugo asked, carefully taking the last of the shaving soap from his face.

"Yeah," Elsie lied, rubbing her lower abdomen with a grimace. It seemed to help, as the cramp began to ebb away, allowing her to finally enjoy the warmth of the water and the feeling of cleanliness spreading over her body. She pulled herself forward before putting her head completely under the water and rubbing her hands through it to wash it as much as she could.

Hugo watched her as she came back up out of the water. She rubbed her face with a towel and leant back, closing her eyes. He left the bathroom and settled back onto the bed, lighting up a cigarette and waiting for her to come back out.

She did so about a half hour later, wrapped in a white towel while her hair lay wet against her neck and back. She was about to take the towel off to dry her hair, when there was a knock at the door.

Hugo made a movement, about to get up, but Elsie gestured with her hand for him to stay where he was.

Looking through the peephole, she frowned and unlatched the door.

Utivich's eyes widened as he saw her with barely anything covering her body. She crossed her hands over her chest self-consciously and raised an eyebrow.

"Utivich?" she asked, waiting for him to explain what he was doing at her hotel room.

"Yeah?" was all he managed to reply, as his eyes moved from her to the room beyond. He spotted Hugo on the bed and his eyebrows rose ever-so-slightly higher.

"Hey!"

She clicked her fingers in front of his face to get his attention and he seemed to come out of his state of shock.

"What? Oh, sorry. Uh, Lt. Raine sent me to get you...and Stiglitz too, I guess. He's calling a meeting. I think our holiday's finishing up a little earlier than we expected."

Elsie made a sound of disappointment.

"Where are we meeting?"

"Well, he told me to take you there, rather than give you directions and risk you showing up late."

"So it's that important?" Elsie asked. She stepped back into the room and made her way towards the bathroom to get changed. It looked as though she would have to change into more appropriate clothing. Pulling out her old Basterds outfit, she looked at the dress she had picked out for that day and sighed. Well, it had been fun while it lasted.

"I'd say so. But I don't think Lt. Raine was very happy about it. He said 'Fuckin' OSS' and 'Fuckin' Brits' a lot while he was giving me orders."

Utivich's reply sounded uncomfortable, which was likely due to the way Stiglitz was staring at him.

"Brits? What the hell do they have to with it?" Elsie asked from inside the bathroom as she changed.

"He wouldn't tell me any details. He wants to tell us all at the same time."

When Elsie appeared once more, now dressed in her usual pants, coat and scarf, Utivich cocked his head and gave her a strange look. It was like she had magically transformed back into 'Original Elsie' in the space of a minute.

She sat down at the end of the bed to put her boots on, looking around the room as she did so, wondering where the hell she had put her weapons.

Hugo got up, too, and began to put his own shoes on.

Utivich was trying hard not to think about what the two people in front of him had most likely been up to in the room.

"Alright, let's go," Elsie said, heading out the door with Hugo not too far behind. Utivich remained where he was for a second before realizing that they were ready to leave.

"You don't have to act so weird, you know," Elsie told him, "Move your fucking ass out of my god damn room."

Utivich did so quickly, leading them out of the building, towards one a few blocks away. It was very small and sat in a secluded area of the city. The streets around it were empty. It was the perfect place to hold a meeting about American/British military strategy.

* * *

Everyone else was already inside and glanced up as the new arrivals entered the dilapidated house.

Donny stood next to Aldo with his arms crossed, looking very intimidating. Unlike Hugo, he hadn't shaved since they had arrived in the city, and had a pretty decent amount of growth. He was looking particularly wild.

He could tell from Elsie's glowing complexion that she'd been having a pretty decent time lately. She offered him a little smile, but he was feeling too agitated to return it. He'd gotten very drunk the night before, and Aldo's sudden meeting call hadn't allowed him to sleep it off quite yet.

"A'right," Aldo began, "I got word from the boss, today. Looks like we ain't gonna be stayin' here a week after all."

Everyone groaned.

"I know, I know," Aldo sympathized.

"Fuckin' British," Hirschberg commented.

"We're goin' on a little rendezvous mission tonight. There's a little town not far from 'ere called Nadine where we're meeting up with a Brit and one o' their spies. Now, seeing as there ain't many of us that can speak a fuckin' word of German, I'm gonna be needin' you, Wicki," he nodded to Wilhelm and then to Hugo, "and you, Stiglitz, to be goin' in there dressed as Nazi officers."

Both men nodded compliantly.

"What about Elsie? She can speak German," Kagan pointed out.

"She's gonna be helpin' us on the other end of things, translatin' what goes down in this 'bar' we're supposed to be meetin' 'em in. Now, ya'll are probably wonderin' the point in all this. It seems the Brits've got a plan that'll bring this war to an end."

Everyone in the room, including Aldo, looked doubtful of there being much truth to this.

"But I say, we may as well humor 'em for a bit. Hell, if it does bring this fuckin' thing to an end, all the better for us."

They all nodded.

"All we gotta worry about for now is makin' our way to the rendezvous point. After we meet up with the Tommy, we're gonna find out more about whatever it is that we're getting into. Questions?"

There were none.

"A'right. Leave your shit where it is, we'll come back for it later. We're moving off now."

"Now?"

Elsie couldn't stop the word before it escaped her lips.

Aldo turned to her with a frown, "Why? You got a problem?"

"No," she replied with a frown. It was just so soon. And she was pretty much ready to sleep for a solid day.

* * *

The trip to the town of Nadine really wasn't as long as they had all expected, especially since Donny and Aldo had stolen a couple of cars to drive them there.

They abandoned the vehicles in an empty paddock towards the back of the town, and walked towards an unsteady looking building that had probably seen its fair share of air raids. The British connection was meeting them inside.

"Lieutenant Archie Hicox," he introduced himself to Aldo, who shook his hand with indifference.

Lieutenant Hicox was a handsome man in his early thirties. He was brimming with classic English charm and seemed slightly disconcerted by the behavior and language of the Americans.

He was particularly confused by the presence of Elsie who, being the only woman in the group, stuck out like a sore thumb. He had been given a very brief version of her story and how she'd come to be a member of the Basterds – the kind of 'brief version' only someone who wasn't there could tell. Still, it was strange to finally meet her. He hadn't pictured her as the seemingly delicate girl standing before him, and he was particularly surprised by the way she seemed perfectly at ease amongst the group toughened soldiers.

Aldo sat down by the broken front windows of the building's upper floor and took out his snuff box, snorting up some of the powder from inside.

"So what's goin' on here, Hicox?" Aldo asked.

"Uh, well, your two German born men and I are going to meet up with our contact in _La Louisianne_ , the bar just across the road there, dressed as uniformed Nazi officers," Hicox began.

"Yeah, I can see that," Aldo replied, nodding over at Wilhelm and Hugo who were both already in costume.

"And if everything goes according to plan, we should be able to get the information she has for us, and we'll leave without any trouble."

He sounded pretty confident about that.

"She?" Aldo asked.

"Yes. Our informant is Bridgette von Hammersmark. The German film star."

"Why the fuck is she on our side for?" Aldo frowned, not liking the fact that the outcome of this whole thing was resting on the shoulders of someone who was betraying their own country. Not that he cared that she was a traitor to Germany, but anyone willing to turn their back on their homeland was untrustworthy, in his opinion.

"The question isn't why, Lt. Raine, but how. How can she help us in the effort to win the war for our side? She has very important information, the fate of which all our lives may depend on."

"That's a bit dramatic, don't ya think?"

Hicox cast a glance at Aldo before leaning against the frame of the window and looking down at the bar below them.

The Basterds were standing, or in Donny's case lying, around in wait. Elsie didn't have a very good feeling about this whole plan. She glanced at Wilhelm, who was smoking with a thoughtful look on his features. Sensing her gaze he looked up and offered her a reassuring smile. He looked quite odd in the Nazi uniform, but at the same time the pseudo-Nazis all looked very prim and proper. With the exception of Hugo.  
His collar was unbuttoned and his uniform a little wrinkled. He couldn't care less. He despised the clothes he had on him. They were a symbol of everything he hated.

To take his mind off it, he was sitting in his own little alcove, sharpening his knife against a leather strop. Elsie observed him, transfixed with the slow and steady movement of the shining blade.

Lying on an old bed nearby Donny watched her as she folded her arms and leant against the doorframe. She caught his gaze and moved to sit down on the bed next to him, instead.

Hicox turned around to survey the men and one woman that made up the Basterds. From the stories he had heard, he was surprised to see them sitting and standing so calmly and quietly.  
He spotted Hugo sharpening his blade, and approached him with slight trepidation.

"Stiglitz, right?"

"That's right, sir," Hugo replied, glancing up from his work.

"I hear you're pretty good with that." He gestured to the knife.

Hugo didn't reply, instead continuing to bring the blade up and down in a meditative motion. Elsie was observing the exchange between the two with amusement.

"You know, we're not going in there looking for trouble. We're simply making contact with our agent. Should be uneventful. However, on the off chance I'm wrong and things prove eventful, I need to know that we can all remain calm."

In a perfectly timed manner, Hugo paused from what he was doing and looked Hicox directly in the eye.

"I don't look calm to you?"

Elsie bit her lip to keep from laughing, and Hugo looked over at her with a knowing smirk.

"Well, when you put it that way, I guess you do," Hicox replied.

With good judgment, he moved away from Hugo and returned to his spot by the window. He turned to Aldo, who was still watching the street below for any sign of movement.

"This Gerry of yours, Stiglitz? Not exactly the loquacious type, is he?"

Aldo looked up at him clearly not finding the man very fun to be around.

"Is that the kinda man you need, the loquacious type?"

Hicox considered this, but gave no reply. Aldo had other thoughts on his mind, "So y'all git in trouble in there, what are we supposed to do? Make bets on how it all comes out?"

Hicox sighed, "If we get into trouble, we can handle it. But if trouble does happen, we need you to make damn sure no Germans, or French for that matter, escape from that basement. If Frau Von Hammersmark's cover is compromised, the mission is kaput."

Wilhelm walked over and offered Elsie a cigarette, which she accepted right away. Letting him light it up for her, she thanked him and felt slightly calmer after taking a drag of it. She didn't know why she was feeling so ill at ease. Donny soon reminded her.

"Hey, speaking of Frau von Hammersmark," he said, "Whose idea was it for the death trap rendezvous?"

He was referring to the bar being in a basement; not the best of places to be, were trouble to start.

"She chose the spot," Hicox replied.

"Well isn't that just _dandy_?"

Elsie looked back at him and he gave her a playful nudge with his knee.

"She's not a military strategist. She's just an actress," Hicox remarked.

"Well, you don't gotta be Stonewall Jackson to know that you don't wanna fight in a fuckin' basement," Aldo told him, "Fightin' in a basement offers a lot of difficulties, number one being: you're fightin' in basement."

"She wasn't picking a place to fight, she was picking a place quiet, isolated. A place without Germans."

"Hey, Lieutenant," Hirschberg said to Hicox as he was looking out the window, "I hate to be contrary, but I got me a Nazi pissin' on _Louisianne_ at 2 o'clock."

Hicox frowned at made his way over to the window. Sure enough, a young German soldier was relieving himself against the tavern's outer wall.

Aldo looked at the British officer with a raised eyebrow.

"Now what?"

"We continue with the mission as planned," Hicox told him, sounding slightly unsure, "I have the radio strapped on me, so you'll be able to hear everything that goes on in there. It's one way though, mind you. We don't want any mishaps involving someone up here accidentally pressing a button and giving away our cover."

Aldo looked in the direction of his two men that would be following Hicox down into the rendezvous. Both men readied themselves, straightening out their uniforms. Hugo replaced his knife into its sheath and Wilhelm placed the officer's hat he had been holding onto his head.  
They were all ready, but before they could leave, Elsie had to wish them both luck.

She hugged Wilhelm, who quietly reassured her that they would be back in less than an hour. She smiled at him as they broke apart, and then she turned to Hugo, who was still standing in the little connecting room.

Elsie stepped inside to meet him, putting her arms around his neck and kissing him for what felt like the last time.

"What's with you?" he asked when she had pulled away.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," she told him.

He didn't seem concerned at all.

"I'll be back soon," he smiled.

Stepping backwards out of the room, she turned and sat back down on the edge of the bed Donny was lying on. He could see the uncertainty in her eyes.

Looking at his watch, Aldo saw it was time for his men and the Brit to go down to the bar. They walked down the staircase, Hicox leading, and descended. She watched the three men cross the road and, after quickly glancing around, enter through the door that would lead them to their contact.

Being the only one in the room able to understand German, Elsie sat by the radio receiver to track the conversations. Aldo stood by her, waiting for any updates. He didn't have to wait long.

"Hammersmark isn't alone down there," she realized.

* * *

The next half hour was devastating.

From the fragments of German that Elsie was able to pick up from the hidden radio, she managed to piece together the scene in the underground bar.

Von Hammersmark had been sitting with a group of German soldiers, playing some sort of game. Judging by the laughter, they were having a good time. After excusing herself, von Hammersmark joined the three Allied men at a different table.

"What's going on?" Hirschberg asked loudly with impatience.

"Shhh," Elsie and a couple of the men replied. They were all listening very carefully.

A female voice whispered something to Lt. Hicox.

"There's a group of Nazi soldiers in there, celebrating the birth of one of their sons," Elsie translated.

Everyone's faces fell, their expressions twisting into ones of concern and distrust.

"Betcha von Hammersmark knew they would be there," Donny wagered.

More voices came over the radio.

"Hicox wants to leave. Hammersmark told him it would look suspicious if they did, though. Good point. I mean, they are meeting in a bar."

"Elsie, I asked you to translate, not give a fuckin' runnin' commentary," Aldo told her.

Ignoring his comment, Elsie continued listening closely. This time von Hammersmark's voice became much more serious. This was it; the important information.

"The cinema venue's been changed," Elsie explained.

"Why?" Aldo asked at almost the exact time Hicox did.

Elsie waited for von Hammersmark's response.

"Apparently no one knows why. But it's smaller. That'll make it easier to attack."

"This next bit of information is colossal. Try not to overreact," von Hammersmark began.

Elsie was practically on the edge of her seat waiting to hear what this piece of information was, and the others could see this.

"What is it?" Aldo asked.

Elsie put her hand up to shush him.

"Der fuhrer- "

But von Hammersmark was cut off. A very cheerful but drunken voice replaced hers, obviously one from the soldiers' party on the other table.

Elsie was gobsmacked. The mention of Hitler had been absurd, but at the same time it was obviously something that had been completely unexpected by the British and their plans.

"Whoever this guy is," Donny said, referring to the drunken voice on the radio, "he is absolutely schickered."

Elsie listened to the man, trying to make out his slurred words. She realized what was going on and shook her head.

"He's asking her for a goddamn autograph."

The young soldier seemed to receive the requested gift for his new son, but lingered near the table, soon overstaying his welcome. Lt. Hicox made a few suggestions for the young man to go back to his table, but he did not. He seemed more interested in Hicox's accent.

"Forgive me for saying so, sir, but your accent is very unusual…"

Elsie swore.

Aldo looked at her with concern. "What?"

"This kid's just spotted Hicox as the odd one out...and he's drunk, for Christ's sake! Can you imagine if a sober Nazi walks in there? I thought this Brit was trained. They've gotta get outta there," Elsie said.

It didn't take long for Hugo to interject. His shouting voice came through loud and clear over the receiver as he yelled for the man's friends to take him back to their table.

Elsie would normally have found this amusing, but all she could think of at that moment was, ' _Their cover's blown. They're not coming out of there'_. She felt panic begin to take over, but she did her best to push it away.

Sensing Elsie's sudden change in mood, Donny took a step closer to her.

"Might I inquire?" a new voice suddenly asked.

Elsie froze.

That voice.

She squeezed her eyes closed, swore silently and clenched her hand into a fist.

Of all the obscure bars he could have decided to spend the evening, Hellstrom had somehow ended up in this one.

It was the worst kind of irony.

To the surprise of the surrounding Basterds, she got up from the chair she had been occupying and began pacing from one side of the room to the other. They watched her with curious frowns.

"Elsie, just what are you doing exactly?" Aldo asked her while the conversation in the bar continued over the radio.

She ran her hands through her hair and proceeded to rest her forehead against the wall in front of her.

"It's over", she muttered.

"What?" Donny said skeptically.

"And jus' why the fuck would that be?" Aldo inquired, taking a step towards her.

Elsie didn't give a reply, she simply shook her head. She returned to her post, sitting back down on the chair.

Of course it would all be over now.

Hellstrom would know that Hicox wasn't the real deal.

And if that wasn't what gave them away, the fact that he would recognize Hugo certainly would. It was inescapable.

* * *

Hugo clenched his teeth.

It was taking every fiber of his being to keep from sticking his knife into Hellstrom's neck.

The man that sat beside him, though he wouldn't call him a man, had raped Elsie. He couldn't think of anyone else he wanted to kill more.

Sitting across from Hugo, Wilhelm could see the rage seeping out of him. He glanced at the German major who had just joined their table, then glanced back at Hugo. It was immediately obvious that Hugo had met this man before, but Wilhelm hadn't the slightest idea where.

As Hugo shifted his eyes to meet Wilhelm's gaze, Wilhelm gave him a look of deterrence. If their cover wasn't already blown, they had to do what they could to keep the act up.

Meanwhile, Hellstrom was thoroughly enjoying himself.

The story that the officer with the unusual accent had just given him was quite obviously false, but he pretended to believe it. With Stiglitz seated beside him, he wanted nothing more than to see where this would go.

And the fact that Stiglitz would not attack him while the group remained in character made the situation all the more beautiful. For a guy who fed on the discomfort of others, whether physical or psychological, this particular moment was like a goddamn buffet.

Hugo scowled at von Hammersmark as she continued to give a false laugh at everything the major said. He had disliked her from the moment he had met her.

Hellstrom suggested that they play their own round of the game that von Hammersmark had been playing when they had initially entered the bar. When they accepted, he laughed and smacked Hugo in the chest, in what appeared to be a good-humored manner.

He and Stiglitz knew however, that this was now a game of endurance: who could keep up their act for the longest – and Hellstrom was doing everything in his power to make sure it wasn't Hugo.

* * *

In the house across the road, the remaining Basterds were still confused about Elsie's odd behavior.

"Who is this guy?" Aldo asked her.

Listening to the ridiculous proceedings of the game that was happening in the bar, Elsie looked slowly up at the man she had known since she was a child.

She couldn't tell him what Hellstrom had subjected her to.

Although she loved Donny to death, she was glad that he wasn't the brightest of people. If he had realized that there was a connection between her sudden change in behaviour, the entrance of the Nazi Major over the radio and the confession she had made to him in his hotel room, nothing would stop him from charging over to there and killing Hellstrom, likely getting himself and everyone else in the bar killed.

"Elsie," Aldo said, sternly but gently, "Keep translatin'."

Taking a deep breath, Elsie obeyed.

The meeting on the other end was coming to a close.

Hellstrom was ordering one last round of drinks: Scotch.

There was a succession of clinking as the new drinks were placed on the table. The group toasted.

Then an audible 'click' sounded over the transmitter.

Needless to say, everyone in the room was able to translate that sound.

They all grew still with anticipation for what was to come.

Elsie's expression had become distant. She continued to translate without even listening to what she was saying.

"Did you hear that? That's the sound of my Walther pointed right at your testicles," Hellstrom's smug voice explained to whoever was on the receiving end of this threat.

It turned out to be Hicox.

"Why do you have your Walther pointed at my testicles?"

"Because you've just given yourself away. You're no more German than that Scotch," Hellstrom promptly explained.

As soon as these words had left Elsie's lips, Aldo turned from the window to face her. He, like everyone else in the room, could see where this was headed.

Hicox and von Hammersmark began to speak at the same time, but the latter was swiftly cut off by a sharp "Shut up, slut," courtesy of Hellstrom.

"I was saying," Hicox continued, "that makes two of us. I've had a gun pointed at your balls since you sat down."

So the Brit wasn't entirely useless.

Another click was heard, followed by a thud as something made contact with something else.

"That makes three of us," Hugo's voice sounded over the radio, "And at this range, I'm a real Frederick Zoller."

Elsie was unable to hold back a small, sad chuckle. She was the only one in the room to understand that reference. Ah, Hugo – even in the face of death, still able to laugh.

Hicox began trying to negotiate with Hellstrom, requesting that they leave together. Knowing Hellstrom as she unfortunately did, Elsie knew that there was no way he would oblige.

Just as she had predicted, Hellstrom told Hicox that neither of them would be leaving the bar on this night.

And that was when Elsie began to truly realize what was about to transpire in that bar in the basement. Tears filled her eyes but she blinked them back, trying to steady her breath.

"Well, if this it, old boy, I hope you don't mind if I go out speaking the kings."

Hicox's sudden change to English caught the Basterds around Elsie off guard. They gathered around the table and chair. All attention was now on the little radio that spoke the fate of those inside _La Louisianne_.

"There's a special rung in Hell reserved for those who waste good Scotch. Seeing as I may be rapping on the door momentarily-"

There was a brief pause as Hicox presumably finished his drink.

"I must say, damn good stuff, sir," Hicox remarked. "Now, about this pickle we find ourselves in. It would appear that there is only one thing left for us to do."

"And what would that be?" Hellstrom asked.

"Stiglitz?" Hicox invited.

"Say 'auf wiedersehen' to your Nazi balls."

Two gun shots sounded over the radio, followed by an innumerable torrent of firing from what sounded like all different directions.

Too stunned to move, none of the Basterds were able to stop Elsie as she jumped out of her chair and rushed down the stairs to the street below as fast as her legs could carry her.


	13. Chapter 13: The Aftershock

**Chapter 13: The Aftershock**

In this chapter:

· A Nazi saved

· Payback

· Blame

· A new idea

· The acceptance of an invitation

· An odd shopping trip

* * *

Hugo couldn't believe that he was sitting beside the very man he had vowed to kill. It was perfect, even if it meant that he would die. He was prepared to if it meant Hellstrom would also be dead. After what this man had done to Elsie, he deserved nothing less than a painful demise.

But Hellstrom was toying with him. He could see that.

He would have to wait for the right moment.

Luckily, that moment arrived much sooner than he thought.

First, he shot away at the part of the major that had been used to violate the woman he loved.  
Then he took out his knife and, with a large grin of satisfaction, stabbed Hellstrom repeatedly in the back off the neck – all the while bullets were flying in every direction, some hitting him, others killing those still standing.

Once he knew that Hellstrom was dead, he slumped to the ground, leaving the knife buried in the Nazi's neck. A bullet ricocheted and hit him in the side, one of many bullets now inside his body, but he didn't feel it.

He had kept his promise.

And now he could die without regret.

* * *

Donny tore down the stairs, jumping the last two and bursting out through the front door of the house. Elsie was almost at the door of the bar.

"Elsie!"

She didn't respond, continuing on towards the scene of the shootout. When she reached the building's door, she found that she was too upset to even be able to open it.

Thanking God for this stroke of luck, Donny grabbed Elsie by the arm and spun her around to face him. Her eyes were filled with tears and those that had already spilled out onto her cheeks left wet trails down to her chin.  
He could see from the look on her face that she wasn't able to think rationally. She turned away and continued to pull on the door handle. Perhaps it wasn't her clouded mind and vision that was stopping her from opening the door, but a subconscious knowledge of what she was going to find inside.

Aldo and the remaining Basterds came out of the house across from them.

"Donny, don't let her go down there," Aldo ordered.

There was no guarantee that everyone in the bar was dead, and if one those possible survivors turned out to be a _real_ Nazi, Elsie would be as good as dead.

"Elsie! Elsie, stop," Donny tried, but she managed to get the door open. He grabbed both her arms this time and held her back. She struggled against him, but her strength was no match for his.

Aldo approached the door and threw it open, leading the group inside to the room above the bar. They all took their guns out, except for Donny who was still trying to calm Elsie down before he could let her go.

No longer able to find the energy to fight against him, she slumped a little in his grasp. Silent sobs wracked her body. Donny let go of her and put a comforting hand on her arm, but she moved away from him, entering the room where the others were waiting. Aldo stood next to the staircase landing, trying to get an idea of what the situation was down there.

Doing her best to pull herself together, Elsie wiped the tears from her face, aware of the fact that all the Basterds were looking at her. They had seen her imprisoned and even shot once before, but they had never seen her this distressed.

Donny came in to the room, the door slamming behind him.

A sudden burst of gunfire rang out, aimed in the direction of the staircase. Aldo scowled and waited for the shots to stop.

"You up there! Who are you? British? American?" a German voice shouted up to them.

"We're American!" Aldo called back, "What are you?"

"I'm German, you idiot!"

"You speak Anglish pretty good for a German," Aldo remarked.

"I agree." The German's voice became more distressed as he realized the position that he was now in, "So let's talk."

"Okay," Aldo allowed, "So talk."

"I'm a father. My baby was born today in Frankfurt, five hours ago. His name is Max. We were in here drinking and celebrating. They're the ones who came in shooting and killing! It's not my fault!"

His plea was reasonable in the eyes of Elsie. Nazi or not, he was a soldier, just like the Basterds were, thrown into a war that he may not have been in support of. Aldo seemed to consider this point.

"Okay, okay, so it wasn't your fault. What's your name soldier?"

"Wilhelm!" the young German told him.

Elsie squeezed her eyes shut, remembering her friend who was likely lying dead below.

"That's the same name as one of my men you just killed!" Aldo shouted.

"They attacked us!" the man cried.

"Okay, Wilhelm...is anybody alive on our side?"

Elsie braced herself for the reply, but deep down she already knew what it was going to be.

"No!" came the response.

There was a brief moment of silence as the Basterds let this sink in.

"I'm alive!" a distraught female voice cried out.

Elsie couldn't believe it. Of all the people to survive the shootout, it had to be the film star that was betraying her own country.

"Who is that?" Aldo asked.

"Is the girl on your side?"

"Which girl?"

"Who do you think? Von Hammersmark!"

Aldo turned his head to look at the remaining Basterds.

"Yeah, she's ours," he replied.

No reply came from Wilhelm, but Elsie was sure that she could hear him cursing von Hammersmark for her betrayal.

"Okay, Wilhelm, what do ya say we make us a deal?" Aldo suggested.

"What's your name?" Wilhelm inquired.

"Aldo. Wilhelm, can I call ya Willi?"

"Yes," Wilhelm allowed.

"Alrigh', Willi, I wanna make a deal. I wanna send a couple of my men down to git the girl. That's all. They get the girl, we leave, you live. How's that sound?"

"Aldo?"

"Yeah, Willi?"

"I want to trust you, but how can I?"

"What other choice do you have?"

Wilhelm paused to think.

"I could kill the girl!" he pointed out.

"Well now, Willi, that's true enough. But something you need to know, so you don't get the wrong idea. Ain't none of us give a fuck 'bout that girl. But, admittedly, if you kill her, it would fuck up our plans. But you'll be dead by then anyway, so what'd you care? And let's not forget about little Max, growin' up without a pop. So in the spirit of gettin' you home to him, we got a deal, Willi?"

"Okay, Aldo, I'm going to trust you," Wilhelm agreed, thinking of his newborn son, "Come down, no guns."

Aldo took a step towards the stairs, hunched over slightly and slowly made his ways down with his hands up to show that he meant no harm.

Donny and Omar stepped up to the head of the staircase, guns at the ready in case Aldo needed back-up.

Glancing over at Elsie, Donny could see from her blank expression that she was not handling any of this very well.

"Hey Willi, what's with the machine gun?" Aldo's voice came up from the few steps he had descended, "I thought that we had a deal."

He came back up towards the top of the stairs, but remained low enough down to be able to still see the German survivor.

Donny placed his foot on the top step, ready to take action if Wilhelm attempted to take a shot at the lieutenant.

"We do have a deal. Now get the girl and go!" Wilhelm told him, sounding more distressed by the minute.

"Hold on a minute Willi. We only got a deal if we got trust. A Mexican stand-off ain't trust!"

"You need guns on me for it to be a Mexican stand-off!"

Aldo looked up at the faces of his men and nodded slowly before giving a response:

"You got guns on us, you decide to shoot, we're dead. Now, I got a couple of guys up here with grenades. They throw 'em down there, you're dead. That's a Mexican stand-off and that was not the deal!"

"Alright. Just take this fucking traitor and get her out of my sight," Willi agreed, placing his gun on the ground.

Aldo made his way down the stairs, but Elsie flew by him, getting there first.

She quickly looked around and spotted von Hammersmark on the floor, taking out a pistol, about to shoot Wilhelm, who was staring curiously at the strange girl that had come out of nowhere.

Acting without hesitation, Elsie kicked the gun out of the actress's hand and delivered another swift kick to her face. The woman rolled onto her stomach, coughing and spluttering.

Elsie glanced up at the man behind the bar, whose eyes were wide with surprise, but also gratitude – this American had just saved his life.

"I suggest you leave. Be a good father to Max," she told him.

He nodded and left the scene quickly, running up the stairs and out the front door. Aldo, who had witnessed Elsie kick von Hammersmark, did not seem to mind too much. He had, after all, made a deal with Wilhelm that he would let him go.

Elsie surveyed the scene once more. Their Wilhelm was lying to her right, obviously dead. Elsie felt a pang of grief in her chest. Very slowly, she turned her head to look back at the table.

Someone was slumped over it with a knife protruding from the base of their neck.

Donny came down the staircase, putting his gun away as he watched Elsie approach the table. She lifted the head of man that still sat at the table, by the hair, looking at the person's face. As though her suspicions had been confirmed, she let it drop back down with a thud.

Turning away, she spotted Hugo's body lying on the ground a couple of feet away. She stood frozen on the spot.

Not far from this, Aldo and Utivich were making an attempt to move von Hammersmark, who had been shot in the leg. Her protests of pain were making this a rather difficult task.

Donny continued watching Elsie as she slid down the wall, near Hugo's body, into a sitting position. This time she didn't cry, she just stared off into the air. He walked over to the body of the man she had apparently identified, looked down at him, then back at her.

"Who is this guy? You recognized him, didn't you?" he asked her.

She slowly brought her gaze up to meet his.

"That's the man who raped me," she said without emotion.

Donny took out his sidearm and, without hesitation, emptied his clip into the dead-Nazi's head, startling Aldo and Utivich, who dropped von Hammersmark. The actress cried out in agony.

"Donny! Get the fuck over 'ere and help me carry this," Aldo ordered, referring to the now-offended film star.

Donny obeyed, but not before spitting on Hellstrom's bloodied corpse. Without any real effort, he and Aldo were able to lift the woman and carry her up the stairs.

"Else, I know this is hard on ya, but we gotta move. This place'll be crawlin' with Gestapo in about two minutes," Aldo called down the stairs.

Nodding, Elsie got to her feet and walked towards the stairs. As she passed the body of Hellstrom, she paused and yanked the knife from his neck, gripping it tightly as she followed the two men up to the room above.

Utivich watched her with concern, observed the bloody scene once more and then made his way up to the rest of the Basterds.

They would have to find somewhere to get von Hammersmark treated for her wounds, otherwise she'd be whining for the rest of the night; and Aldo was already growing tired of her shit.

* * *

What they managed to find was a veterinary clinic and, after waking up the owner by pounding on his door and threatening him with their firearms, Aldo and Donny were finally able to unload their burden onto an operating table, where she lay bloody and sweating.

Sporting a darkening bruise from the kick Elsie had delivered to her face, von Hammersmark looked around at the men who were staring at her, none of them looking particularly friendly.

"Before we yank that slug outta ya, we got a few questions to ask," Aldo told her.

Behind him, Hirschberg had a gun trained on the vet, who was looked unnerved by the whole situation.

"About what?" she replied, but before Aldo could reply, a loud crashing sound came from the room across the hall.

Everyone turned their head to look in the direction of the noise.

Elsie was not taking the death of her friends very well.

Donny made a move to go to her, but Aldo stopped him.

"Utivich, go and tell 'er to get 'er ass in here now," Aldo said.

Utivich glanced at Donny, who was looking agitated by Aldo's intervention.

Stepping slowly into the dark hallway, he walked towards the room that the sounds were issuing from. Poking his head through the door, he saw Elsie throwing things about the room, cursing and crying.

Well, it was one way of dealing.

After a particularly strong cry of fury, Elsie threw one last item – a radio – at the wall, watching as it shattered to pieces. She closed her eyes and tried to regain control, her breathing ragged.

"Else?" Utivich said, stepping into the room.

She looked up at him, eyes red from crying. She had a cut on her cheek where a stray splinter of wood had hit her.

"Aldo wants you to, um, get in the other room," he managed to tell her. He was speaking softly in respect for how she was feeling.

She nodded, wiped her face on the back of her forearm.

"What have I missed?" she asked him, approaching the door.

"Uh, well, the cinema venue was changed, but you already told us that. Oh yeah, and apparently Hitler's gonna be there," Utivich explained.

"What?"

"Yeah, I know."

Elsie paused to think. "How did the shooting start?"

"The lady says that Hicox ordered three drinks like this-"

He put up his index, middle and ring fingers.

"But in Germany, they do it like this-"

He now showed his thumb, index and middle fingers.

It was so ridiculous that it _had_ to be true.

"That's what gave him away to the Nazi at their table," he finished.

Shaking her head, Elsie walked out of the room.

As she arrived in the vet's examination room, Donny glanced up and caught site of her miserable state. She made her way over to his side, the only place even remotely comforting to her right now.

Aldo and von Hammersmark were discussing how they were going to get into the Nazi film premiere, the one that Frederick had mentioned to Elsie. They weren't coming up with much; too busy arguing over how she had been shot in the leg and how he could only speak...well, his version of English.

Von Hammersmark saw Elsie and cursed at her in German.

"What the fuck did you just say?" Elsie snapped in disbelief.

"You bitch, you kicked me!" she snarled.

"I'll break your pretty fucking neck!" Elsie screamed, jumping towards the alarmed woman, but not before Donny caught her around the waist.

"Elsie, step the fuck back," Aldo ordered. "Now, I couldn't care less if you killed her, to be honest, but if ya do, we ain't got no way of gettin' into this premiere. So calm the fuck down."

"The only reason I kicked you is because you were going to shoot that soldier we made a deal with!" Elsie growled at her.

The men in the room, with the exception of the confused vet, looked at the actress with disgust.

"Well, now, I don't think Elsie is the real bitch here," Hirschberg commented.

Von Hammersmark sneered.

"Back to the real problem at hand," she began, "How do you intend on disguising yourselves to get into the premiere?"

Aldo considered this, but didn't seem able to come up with an answer.

"I know this is a stupid question before I ask it, but can you Americans speak any language other than English?" she asked.

"Elsie speaks German and French," Kagan told her.

"Well, I need a _male_ escort," Von Hammersmark replied.

"I bet you do," Elsie muttered. Donny smiled.

"Three, to be exact," Von Hammersmark went on.

"The Lieutenant and I both speak a little Italian," Donny finally answered.

"With an atrocious accent, no doubt", she guessed in a very snooty manner, but she did give this a little thought. "However, that doesn't exactly kill us in the crib. Germans don't have a good ear for Italian. So you mumble Italian and brazen your way through? Is that the plan?"

"Yeah, that's pretty much it," Aldo nodded.

"Sounds good," Von Hammersmark decided.

"Sounds like shit," Aldo disagreed, "but what else are we gonna do? Go home?"

"No, it's good. If you don't blow it, I can easily get you into the building. Now, who does what?"

"Well," Aldo considered, "since I speak the most I-talian, I suppose I'll be going as your escort. Donny, he speaks the second best, he'll be your I-talian cameraman."

Looking around the room for a third person, Aldo settled on Elsie, who could at least speak German.

"And Elsie. She can be an I-talian film star or somethin'."

"No, wait," Elsie interjected, "choose someone else. I think I may have my own way of getting in."

"And what might that be?" Aldo asked.

All eyes were trained on her as she gave her reply.

"Uh, well, I kind of ran into Fredrick Zoller the other day. He's the star of the Nazi film that the premiere is for. He asked me to be his, well, date, I guess."

There were mixed expressions ranging from the surrounding Basterds.

"He asked _you_?" Von Hammersmark asked incredulously.

"Yeah. I'm supposed to be meeting him tonight to give him an answer. What time is it?"

Aldo checked his watch. "About ten", he told her. It was felt surprisingly early.

"Fuck. I told him I'd meet him at nine. There's no way he'd still be there. But if he's gonna be in the city for the premiere..."

"Alright, then I suggest you take one of them cars we came 'ere in, drive back to Par-ee, and find this kid and tell 'im you'll gladly o-blige. If he's the star, he oughta be in contact with the big guns," Aldo told her, "Omar can come with us, instead."

"I don't speak Italian," Omar said with a confused look.

"Just keep your fuckin' mouth shut," Aldo suggested, "In fact, why don't you start practicing now?"

He turned back to Elsie, giving her a look that asked why she was still there.

She nodded and quickly left the room.

* * *

It was almost one a.m. by the time Elsie sped into the city. She jumped out of the car and raced towards _The Pure Heart_ café.

It was still open, much to her surprise, but it seemed that a group of Nazis had forced the owner to remain open well into the early morning hours.

She scanned the restaurant, and then heard a familiar voice.

"Cécille?"

Fredrick was sitting out the front, drinking coffee and looking at Elsie with curious interest.

"Fredrick, thank goodness I caught you!" she exclaimed, putting on her best innocent-French-girl act, "I thought it might be too late."

"That's alright. Do you have an answer for me?"

He smiled a charming smile, but suddenly noticed the cut on her cheek.

"Is everything alright?" he asked.

Elsie realized that she must have looked like an absolute mess. With her mind still racing from all the night's events, she came up with an explanation.

"Oh, oui. I ran all the way here from my house. A car was driving by and flicked a stone up. It hit my cheek and, well...nothing a little make-up can't cover."

"So does that mean you've accepted my invitation **?** "

"Oui."

"I hope Major Hellstrom doesn't mind," Fredrick said.

Elsie held back a laugh.

"I'm sure he won't mind."

"I know it was short notice when I asked you. Do you have something to wear? If not, I know a shop nearby that sells dresses. I'm sure I can convince them to open up just for us."

* * *

It was another moment to add to her 'Strangest Things That Have Ever Happened to Me' list that seemed to be ever-increasing.

Here she stood with Nazi Propaganda star, Fredrick Zoller, to her left and an obliging French dress-shop owner to her right, both suggesting different dresses to her.

She knew she would have to be extra careful with her selection, choosing a dress with a closed back to cover up her scars.

"How about this one? Green? It matches your eyes," Fredrick grinned.

So smooth, this one.

Elsie looked at the dress. It was a thin-strap gown with a low cut back...as well as a low cut front.  
Why did she suddenly get the feeling that he wanted to use her to either impress someone, or to otherwise make them jealous?

"I was thinking...blue!"she said suddenly, as she spotted lovely blue dress that actually had a back.

It was a gorgeous piece. She picked it up to look at it a little more closely. It was a flowing, midnight-blue silk gown that reached her ankles. The straps were about an inch and a half wide and were designed to sit a little lower on the shoulders than usual, as though the dress were slipping down.

"I'll go try it on," Elsie told them, walking to the changing rooms.

Slipping out of her clothes and into the gown, Elsie looked at her reflection. The color went well with her new hair and her light complexion, but it wasn't the dress that she was really thinking about. She was finding it difficult to push the events of the night out of her mind.

' _I'll save that for when I get back to the hotel'_ , she told herself.

"What's your verdict?" Fredrick asked, snapping her back to reality.

"I like it," she told him, then added, just to appear playful, "but I'm not going to let you see it until tomorrow night."

She changed back into her other clothes and came out of the dressing room. Smiling once more, Fredrick looked at the dressmaker.

"We'll take it," he told him, taking out some money to pay for it.

"I'll come by to pick you up at, say, seven?" Fredrick asked on the way out.

"Sounds great."

"Where should I pick you up from?"

Elsie now realized the problem. She couldn't exactly send him out to a house that didn't exist now, could she?

"I'll meet you inside the city?" she suggested, thinking on her feet.

After settling on a time and place that wouldn't blow her cover, they said their farewells and went their own ways.

Elsie moved quickly toward her hotel, wanting the solace and privacy of her room. It was time to face what had happened that night.


	14. Chapter 14: Tonight

**Chapter 14: Tonight**

In this chapter:

· Grieving

· A friend

· Reminiscing

· Some dog tags

· Preparation

* * *

Elsie stepped into her room and glanced around.

Hugo's things lay on the floor. On the bed. In the bathroom.

Closing her eyes for a moment, she managed to regain control of her limbs, shutting the door and walking to the bathroom. Looking at her face in the mirror she noticed how tired she looked. The cut on her cheek wasn't bleeding anymore, the blood already dry around the wound; but the pink tinge around the edges of it made her think that it would be best to clean it. She grabbed a cotton ball from the counter draw, dampening it with warm water before dabbing at the slightly swollen scratch.

She splashed her face with water, but she didn't feel any better.

She needed sleep. But more than that, she needed a drink.

Tossing items of clothing, shopping bags and various other items around the room she began searching for a bottle of whisky that they might have left lying around.

She found one, but it was empty. Naturally, she threw it at the wall.

There was a knock at the door.

She remained where she was, hardly considering whether or not to open it, but she didn't have to decide. She had left it unlocked. It opened slowly, revealing first a hand holding two bottles of alcohol and then the rest of Donny.

Elsie remained with her back to him, staring at the spot on the wall where she had thrown the bottle.

"I thought you could probably do with a drink," he said quietly.

Words spoken softly by Donny sounded unusual, but all the same she immediately felt calmer.

She nodded and slowly turned around.

They sat down at the small table by the window, and poured large glasses of the whiskey.

"When did you get back?" Elsie asked, remembering that she had left the Basterds back in Nadine.

"We didn't stay too long after ya left. As soon as the doc had plastered up the bitch's leg, we were outta there. But then we had to get fitted for these suits for tomorrow night..."

He made a face to show that he hadn't enjoyed the experience.

"Where did you get these?" Elsie asked, gesturing to the bottles that sat on the table.

"I stumbled across them," Donny assured her. Sure, the way muggers 'stumble' across ladies purses.

They didn't speak for a few minutes, drinking the burning alcohol at a rate that was probably not healthy; but Elsie didn't care.  
She just wanted to get drunk and forget about everything.

Donny guessed this would be the case, but he wanted to be there while she did it, just to make sure that she didn't hurt herself in the process.

He looked across at her as he drank. The rims of her eyes were red, but any other signs of her grief were being kept well hidden.

"Do you wanna talk?" he asked her.

"Not really."

He nodded and looked around the room. He wondered if it had been this messy before she'd gotten back from the bar, or if she had only just recently trashed it.

She sighed loudly and leaned back in her chair, hands behind her head. He turned his attention back to her.

"I don't know what I'm thinking, Don. I'm supposed to be crying, right? But I can't. What does that mean?"

She stopped to drink from her glass.

He couldn't think of anything to say. What words would comfort her?

Don't worry, it doesn't mean anything?

Maybe you didn't really love him after all?

He decided to leave it alone. It was probably better to let her find the answer to that one herself.

Nearly an hour later, the bottles were down to their last few dregs, most of it now in Elsie. She poured herself one more glass, downed it in one go and then made her way slowly over to the bed.

"I jus' needa sleep for a while," she slurred.

Donny got up at the same time she did, running his hands back through his hair as she moved a few articles of clothing that had probably been Hugo's, off the bed and onto the floor.

She had fallen into an alcohol induced sleep-coma before he could even say goodnight.

He pulled a chair over to the bedside and sat down, watching over her but frowning at the troubled expression that remained on her features even as she slept.

* * *

The following morning, Elsie woke up to find her room had been tidied; more specifically, all of Hugo's things had been put away out of view.

She silently thanked Donny for this.

Dragging herself out of bed, feeling the beginnings of a migraine, she grabbed her usual outfit and moved towards the shower.

It was time to clean up and she didn't mean it in an entirely physical sense, either. She needed to face the fact that Hugo was dead. And Wilhelm; one of her closest friends amongst the Basterds. She knew that, for the sake of the Basterds and their plans for the premiere, she had to get her act together.

There wasn't time for grieving.

Not feeling much better, if only refreshed, she went downstairs. She wasn't sure where she was going, but more than anything she wanted to be out of the room that she and Hugo had spent much of their time together in.

She would be driven by one of the Basterds to the Ritz, later in the evening, to meet up with Fredrick; but meanwhile, she had time to spare. Some of this time would be dedicated to getting her hair and make-up done, but for the most part she had no idea what to do with it.

She had to keep her mind busy.

Pausing to lean against the wall of the building she had been staying in, Elsie recalled the moment only a couple of nights ago, when Hugo had told her he loved her. Her brow creased as she relayed this moment in her mind.

She remembered the feeling that it hadn't felt right hearing him say those words.

She pushed this from her mind.

Continuing to walk down the street, she passed the cinema that would be hosting the premiere later that night. It was adorned in Nazi banners and colors. She stared at it in wonder...more a disturbed awe, really.

Looking away from the peculiar party decorations, she continued walking, this time reaching _The Pure Heart_.

Of all the things she could have recalled happening in there, her mind was brought back to Major Hellstrom; that strange afternoon they had spent together, with him discussing their future.

Reaching into her pocket, Elsie felt the comforting steel of Hugo's knife that she had taken from the bleeding corpse of the major. Checking to make sure that no one was around to see, she took the it out and ran her finger over the German inscription: 'Loyalty is my honor'.

Truer words were never written.

A sudden thought struck her and she turned, travelling in the opposite direction.

* * *

She was trying to recall the room number.

 _Third floor. Third floor._

Perhaps being in the actual hallway would spark her memory as to which room it was.

Taking the elevator up, Elsie tightened her scarf and pulled up her gloves. The temperature seemed to have dropped a few degrees in the space of two floors.

As the door 'dinged' open, she stepped out. She was right; actually being in the hallway again triggered her memory. It was room 314.

Checking to make sure that the hallway was deserted, she approached the door and tried the handle. It was open. She supposed that, due to the unexpected orders of Lt. Raine, Wilhelm wouldn't have bothered to lock up his room. And the owners of the hotel didn't know that he wasn't going to be returning.

Pushing it open, expecting an ominous creak, she found it silent, albeit quite dark. This was solved with a flick of the light switch.

Wilhelm's room was tidy.

What was that saying? A tidy room means a tidy mind?  
Something like that.

It explained a lot about her.

She found his dog tags lying on the room's small table. Scooping them into her hand, she clasped them tightly, but they served as a strong reminder of what she had lost.

"Elsie?"

Her heart stopped for a moment as she spun around.

Hirschberg and Utivich had their heads poking through the door, looking both confused and concerned.

"Oh hey, guys," she greeted.

"Uh, what are you doing in here?" Utivich asked.

She realized that she didn't have a reasonable answer to that.

"Why don't you come back to my room?" Hirschberg suggested when she failed to give them a reply, speaking for once without humor.

"Sounds good," she quickly agreed, pocketing the tags.

"Ready for tonight?"

Elsie, who was sitting on the floor despite there being numerous elevated places that she could have chosen to sit on, frowned up at Utivich.

"Does it look like it?"

"Uh, no, but I meant-"

Elsie laughed.

The boys frowned at her once more. They couldn't say for certain, but they were pretty sure that she had lost her mind.

"I know what you meant," she assured him, "but it's not as though we have a choice, is it? We're either in or we're out."

"Well, I don't know about you guys, but I'm in," Hirschberg told them.

"Why wouldn't _we_ be?" Utivich asked him.

"Who's driving you all to the Ritz tonight?" Elsie interrupted.

"That would be me."

Omar entered the room, having overheard them talking.

"Do you not lock your doors?" Elsie asked them.

"The get-up I've gotta wear is gonna make me look like a chauffeur anyway," Omar went on, ignoring Elsie's comment.

"What are _you_ wearing?" Hirschberg asked her with a little too much interest.

Utivich shot him a look to say that the way he'd asked the question wasn't exactly appropriate, especially given the events of the previous night.

"I bought a dress last night. With Fredrick Zoller, actually."

"That's the guy, ain't it? That fuckin' kraut movie star?" Hirschberg asked.

"You're thinking of von Hammersmark", Elsie joked.

"I can't believe you got stuck with some fuckin' German," Hirschberg continued.

The words hit Elsie in a way that wasn't intended, but Hirschberg didn't even realize. Judging by Utivich's expression, though, he had.

"How are you doing?" he asked quietly. The others glanced down at her.

She seemed to go into deep thought for a moment, before quickly shrugging it off.

"I'll be alright."

They could sense the lie.

"What will you two be doing tonight?" she asked Utivich and Hirschberg, quickly changing the subject, "The same as usual? Nothing?"

She forced a weak chuckle.

"We've got the perimeters," Utivich explained, motioning to Hirschberg, "Roof, in case anyone makes a break for it. Taking out any surrounding guards so that they can't open any of the doors once they're barricaded. Lt. Raine's going to make sure the doors are secured; then he gets a shot at Hitler."

Hirschberg was shaking his head at this. Apparently it seemed unfair to him that only Aldo got to kill the man who had started this whole thing.

"And the others?" Elsie asked.

"Uh, well Kagan's with us. Zimmerman and Sackowitz'll be going in through the upper windows to cover the remaining areas of the cinema."

"Hang on," Elsie said, rubbing her eyes with her fingertips, "I didn't hear the entire plan because I left early. Where will you and Donny be during all of this?"

"We'll be seated with the rest of the audience," Omar explained.

"Alright, this may be a stupid question, but what's the decided method for killing all the Nazis in there?"

"Everyone inside the cinema will have dynamite strapped to their legs with timers attached," he replied.

Elsie stared at him.

"What?"

"Well, _you_ won't. Lt. Raine wasn't sure how long your dress was going to be and if the dynamite would show or not, so he said it'd be better if you focused on shooting. Donny and a couple of the others are going into the cinema today to plant a few items in the bathrooms."

"So, what? You place the explosives in strategic areas? Then we just excuse ourselves and get the hell out of there?"

"Not exactly..."

Elsie squeezed her eyes shut and sighed.

"Look, if you don't wanna die for this, you can back out now," Hirschberg told her as she got to her feet and began pacing.

She stopped and glared at him.

"You think that's the reason why I'm upset?" she asked, raising her voice, "I just lost two of my best friends back there! Why the fuck do we need to blow ourselves up for this to work?"

The three boys stared at her as though they didn't understand.

"Alright, then," she said, waving her hands as though she didn't care anymore, "I'll see you guys later tonight."

She left quickly, trying to comprehend everything she had just been told, on top of everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.

It was a near impossible feat.

* * *

By the time she had to go to her hair and make-up appointment at a local beauty parlor, her head felt like it was going to explode.

As a chatty young French girl worked on her blond locks, she blocked out all sounds until they were mere white noise in the background.

So this was it.

This is what it all came down to.

Her and the Basterds.

One heck of an explosion.

And the end of the war.


	15. Chapter 15: Putting Out Fire - Pt 1

**Chapter 15: Putting Out Fire (with Gasoline)  
** **Part 1**

In this chapter:

·A movie premiere

· Landa

· A fourth language

· A fatherly conversation

* * *

Several months ago, Elsie would never have even considered the possibility of being the date of a Nazi propaganda film star; the concept wouldn't have even crossed her mind.

Then again, she had never thought she would be joining an American guerrilla militant group to wreak havoc on the German army, either.

But, you know what they say: Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

As their car drew closer to the cinema, Elsie felt the nerves begin to set in.

She had spent close to two weeks up a tree, shooting at men who were looking to kill her. She had learned to scalp people as though it was a ritual part of life. She'd had a gun held to her head, been sexually assaulted, endured the brutal lashings of a whip, been shot, been forced to have lunch with the man who had assaulted her and sat helpless as two of her best friends were shot dead; yet she was still somehow nervous about dressing up and being on the arm of a young man for an evening.

Not to mention the fact that the cinema they were on their way to would be leveled by large amounts of dynamite before the end of the night.

To make matters just that little bit worse, Fredrick, who was dressed in a white uniform adorned with his many medals of valor, continued to throw little looks and smiles in her direction as she sat next to him in the car.

And sitting directly across from them was Joseph Goebbels and his translator/ date-for-the-evening, a woman in a horrible gold outfit who had been introduced to her as Mademoiselle Francesca Mondino.

Talk about an awkward car trip.

The actual arrival at the cinema wasn't much better. People flocked towards Fredrick and Goebbels, greeting them and chatting away like fan-girls. Elsie, arm-in-arm with her date, remained silent, trying her best to appear a mere accessory to Fredrick while they had their picture taken.

'Right now,' she thought to herself, 'you're here to smile and look pretty. No matter how much you want to hit Mademoiselle Mondino in the face.'

The interior of the cinema was a little extravagant. Scattered around it were even more Nazi decorations than the front of the venue, as well as decadent artwork and statues she guessed had been imported for this very occasion.

Waitresses in skimpy outfits walked around serving drinks to the fat men who had profited well from the European conflict; their pretty dates looking as though their only purpose in life was to look attractive and giggle at all the bad jokes being told.

Elsie decided that she could learn a thing or two from them for her own charade, but before she could watch any one person for too long, she was off being dragged to the next important individual there.

She quickly grew bored. The novelty of being at a Nazi premiere wore off fast, apparently.

She kept her eyes peeled for Aldo, Donny and Omar, but there was no sign of them yet.

Scanning the room for anything interesting – aside from the sea of uniformed and over-decorated Nazi generals, majors and ministers, of course – Elsie's gaze trailed up the golden rail of the staircase, before her eyes came to rest on a young woman in a red dress. She realized that it was the girl she had met the first time she had come to the cinema.

The young woman was also scanning the room and, for the briefest of moments, their eyes met. There was something in the girl's eyes; a glint of detestation, perhaps, at the fact that she had allowed these people inside her establishment.

No. It was something more than that. Her expression was calm, calculating, almost as if she were up to something.

She came down the stairs towards them, eyes now locked on Fredrick, who spotted her as soon as she hit ground level.

"Emmanuelle!" he greeted with a big smile, "I want you to meet the greatest actor in the world."

Elsie frowned at him.

She had tuned out of the conversation about six people ago, so had no idea who he was talking about. For a split-second, she thought he was referring her.

"Emil Jannings," Fredrick finished, gesturing to the beefy man that stood before them.

Jannings took the other woman's hand and kissed it, much like he had when he had been introduced to 'Cécille Amour', only Elsie had been too zoned out at the time to notice.

Emmanuelle glanced in Elsie's direction as though waiting for an introduction. It took Fredrick a moment to remember that he had brought her along, too distracted by the true object of his affections.

"Oh, I'm sorry. This is Cécille," he finally said.

Both girls gave a polite nod.

Yes, there definitely was something interesting about Emmanuelle.

* * *

Donny spotted Elsie almost instantly.

Even from a distance, she was absolutely stunning.

Her blonde hair was a sea of waves, cascading over her shoulders and down to the midnight blue-silk dress that she had chosen out the night before. He glanced at von Hammersmark, who was standing beside Aldo, and who also hadn't stopped whining until they had arrived. She had nothing on Elsie.

"Anyone seen Elsie yet?" Aldo whispered, though it came out as more of a growl.

"She's right over there," Donny told him. He couldn't tear his eyes away.

And now she was heading in his direction.

* * *

Despite having a well-renowned Nazi on her arm, Elsie couldn't help but feel relief wash over her when she saw Donny and the others. But this relief was short-lived as she spotted Colonel Landa walking down the stairs. He greeted von Hammersmark like an old friend.

"Oh look! It's Colonel Landa. Shall we go and say 'hello'?" Fredrick asked.

It was almost as if Major Hellstrom was still alive, pulling the strings of this disaster waiting to happen just to feed off her distress.

"Of course," Elsie replied.

It was taking a lot of effort to walk gracefully in the pair of heels that she had chosen; periwinkle blue and stiletto-heeled. She reminded herself to throw them away before the real action began.

She almost felt bad. Fredrick was positively glowing from the success of the evening so far, as well as the amount of praise he was receiving from all the Nazi big-wigs. Or maybe it was just his inflated ego shining through; Elsie hadn't decided yet.

All the same, he looked utterly cheerful.

It was a terrible thing that she would have to go and ruin that by killing him.

The moment they reached Colonel Landa, who turned around to greet Fredrick, Elsie knew that he recognized her from his visit to her grandparents' Villa.

His eyes locked with hers and she felt her heart clench with rage.

Neither of them said anything, but a silent conversation took place. His face gave away nothing.

"And this is my lovely date for the evening, Cécille."

"What a pleasure it is," Colonel Landa smiled, politely taking her hand and kissing it. She must have had about sixty men do that already; it was starting to seem unhygienic.

"Indeed," Elsie replied.

Fredrick spotted Emmanuelle standing on her own and saw his chance for an ambush.

"I'll be back in a moment, Cécille, alright?"

"Oui."

She watched him go and then turned to face the five people that were now staring at her.

"So, Cécille, how do you know Fredrick?" asked the Colonel.

"Actually, we met here, in the city," she fake-smiled.

"Are you from France?"

"Oui."

"But you also speak German, Fredrick tells me," Landa said, switching from French to German.

The sudden change of languages struck Elsie as slightly odd, but it was only going to get weirder.

"Ja."

"How about... English?"

She could see that he was trying to corner her. She had told him the first time they had met, that she preferred speaking English to speaking French. Now he was toying with her; like Hellstrom would have.

"As a matter of fact, yes."

"I like a multi-lingual woman. It shows a lot of intelligence."

He smiled in his arrogant sort of way, as though he had won a battle that Elsie hadn't known was occurring.

"Do you have family in the area?"

Elsie's mind flashed back to her dead grandparents, lying on the ground in a pool of their own blood, gunshots to the back of their heads; all of this due to orders he had given.

"Just my father," she lied.

Though she supposed that it wasn't entirely untrue; Aldo was a surrogate father to her now.

Landa nodded with interest before beginning to talk to von Hammersmark. Elsie looked at Donny and smiled.

He smiled back at her. She looked even more beautiful close up.

Turning her attention to the conversation between Landa and von Hammersmark – which neither Donny, Aldo nor Omar could understand – Elsie listened to the explanation of how Bridget had ended up with her leg in a cast. Apparently the best excuse they could come up with was 'mountain-climbing'.

Elsie wondered if there even _were_ any mountains in Paris.

The entire incident seemed to have struck Landa as quite funny, as he excused himself, proceeding to erupt into laughter.

Elsie bit back a smile as Donny stared at the Colonel as though he were insane. In fact, Donny just looked quite disturbed about the entire event. Aldo looked even more unimpressed, like he'd rather be scalping in the woods than dressed up in his sharp, white suit. Omar, on the other hand, looked quite happy just to sit back and take in the goings-on.

"So, who are your three handsome escorts?" Landa finally asked.

"I'm afraid neither of them speaks a word of German," von Hammersmark explained, "They're friends of mine from Italy."

She approached Aldo and took his arm, leaning into him. Aldo didn't make any effort to hide his irritation.

"This is a wonderful Italian stuntman, Enzo Gorlomi. A very talented cameraman, Antonio Margheriti," she said, gesturing towards Donny, "and Antonio's camera assistant, Dominick Decocco."

Donny made a hand gesture as he was introduced, which, apparently, he thought made him seem more believably Italian. Elsie looked away to hide her smile, grabbing a glass of champagne from a tray as it moved past them. She took a sip of it to calm herself down.

"Gentleman, this is an old friend of mine, Colonel Hans Landa of the SS," von Hammersmark told them, in what was probably the only Italian she knew.

"Bon-jerno," Aldo said, not bothering to cover up his southern-American accent.

Laughter rose in Elsie's throat, and took a particularly large mouthful of champagne to keep it from erupting.

"Gentlemen, it's a pleasure," Landa began in fluent Italian.

Everyone stared at him in shock.

Coming to the premiere disguised as Italians had been a good idea, but once again, von Hammersmark's 'brilliant' plan had quickly turned to shit. They hadn't expected any Nazis to be able to speak Italian, but then again they hadn't expected any Nazis to be in _La Louisianne_ , either.

Elsie had to think, fast. Her mind began flashing back to the night Hugo had died. He had lost his life because of a stuff-up like this.

"The friends of our cherished star, admired by all of us, this absolute jewel of our culture, are naturally going to be under my personal protection for the duration of their stay," Landa continued.

The three Basterds stared at Landa, slowly nodding, trying their best to look like they knew exactly what he was saying.

In a sudden flash of inspiration, Aldo looked to Elsie for help.

She gave him a very discreet thumbs up, which he understood immediately.

"Grazi-eh," he told Landa.

"Gorlomi? Am I pronouncing it correctly? Gorlomi?"

Elsie gave a small nod whilst looking down into her champagne.

"Ah, si. Correcto," Aldo answered, taking his cue from her.

Aldo didn't really need help with that one; he was beginning to get the general gist of what Landa was asking. But to save all of them the pain on a passive-interrogation, Elsie decided to butt-in.

"I holidayed in Italy with my father when I was younger. Have you ever been Colonel Landa? I mean, before you invaded it? "

Von Hammersmark was quite alarmed by Elsie's choice of words, able to understand more Italian than Elsie had given her credit for.

Landa, smooth as always, maintained a good-natured expression and politely replied, "Yes, I have. Though, I will admit that it was only within the last two years.

Elsie nodded sarcastically and then caught Donny's disapproving look that he quickly flashed before returning to his pleasant smile.

"Shall we move to our seats now, Cécille?"

Fredrick had finally returned from yet another rejection from Emmanuelle, but was not yet to be disheartened. He planned on visiting her in the projectionist's booth later in the evening. Perhaps she would be more accepting of his advances if he were to get her alone.

"Oui," Elsie agreed, glad to get away from Landa and von Hammersmark. She glanced back at Donny on their way past, but their plan was to meet later on. From their position in the balcony seats, she had a view of the entire cinema below. She would keep an eye out for him and Omar, as well as Aldo. In the meantime, she was still Fredrick's date.

* * *

Nazi premiere or not, she had to admit; they really did have great seats.

From where she sat – which was unfortunately between Fredrick and Mondino – Elsie could see the many seats below, as well as the doors through which most of the audience were beginning flow, making their way to their own seats.

She spotted Donny and Omar, awkwardly walking towards the rows close to the front. Donny still looked uneasy. He glanced up to the balconies and Elsie risked a quick, reassuring wave.

He didn't wave back, but she could see that the little smile had returned to his face.

"Cécille? I just wanted to tell you that you look truly wonderful. I'm sure that more than a few men in here wished you were on their arm, instead of mine. Is that wrong to say?"

His little display of shyness was almost cute, though she was almost certain he was putting it on.

"Not at all," Elsie replied, "Merci."

"Speaking of which, though it may trouble you to know, Major Hellstrom, was found dead yesterday. He did say you two had met, but I wasn't sure if you knew."

Elsie feigned surprise.

"How unfortunate."

Fredrick offered a small nod of condolence.

Elsie turned her gaze to the floor below them and rolled her eyes at his gesture. The seats were just about full now. The cinema was brimming with excited chatter as the audience waited for the film to begin.

"The Fuehrer will be arriving once the audience has taken their seats **,** " Goebbels informed Fredrick, who smiled dutifully.

Elsie froze as her stomach gave a sickening twist. Hitler himself would be joining them. She could almost hear Hellstrom laughing from his grave.

"Will you excuse me for a moment?"

Fredrick nodded at her.

"Don't be too long though. You must meet the Fuehrer!"

He said it as though telling someone that they 'just had to see the new baby!' or that she 'simply must try this new recipe!'

She nodded with forced enthusiasm. Nausea began to set in.

* * *

Detouring from the bathroom, Elsie wondered back towards the foyer area. It was now empty except for a few stray waitresses, a couple of random guards and one man in a white suit: Aldo.

She walked down the staircase and he turned around.

"What're you doin' down 'ere? Shouldn't you be sittin' up there with your kraut-boy?"

Luckily, no one was really paying attention, nor close enough, to hear Aldo.

"Where's von Hammersmark?" Elsie asked him.

"She and her good friend, 'Hermann' took off inna that room."

"You mean Landa?"

"You know him?"

"He killed my grandfolks."

"You gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me."

Elsie shook her head.

"Let's jus' wait 'til he and the bitch're done in there, then, shall we?"

Elsie smiled at the idea of finally getting her long-awaited revenge on the Colonel, but it didn't seem like he and von Hammersmark would be coming out of that room any time soon.  
She decided to wait.

Aldo was gazing at her in a funny kind of way as he sipped some champagne.

"What?" she asked him.

"Nothin'. You look nice, is all. It's like they say: they jus' grow up too damn fast."

"Well, you look quite dashing yourself. Was the color your choice?" she smiled mockingly.

"You be quiet, now, missy. As a matter o' fact, I _did_ choose it out myself."

Elsie grinned.

"It makes you look... quite distinguished."

He threw her a sarcastic look.

"You outta head up now. Don't want 'em to come lookin' for ya. He might want to be introducing you to his Heine parents, next."

She chuckled, but suddenly felt a sense of sorrow. She hugged Aldo tightly, catching him slightly off-guard.

"Hey, now, you can do this. Hell, I've seen you pull through harder stuff," he said, hugging her back.

She took a deep breath and let go of him.

"I'll see you when all of this is done," she told him.

He made an uncertain face, but just nodded in response.

As she walked up the stairs, she smiled down at Aldo one last time, but he had turned his attention back to the front of the cinema, waiting for the return of von Hammersmark, who, at that exact moment, was being strangled to death by Colonel Landa.

Elsie turned the corner just in time to miss Aldo being tackled to the ground by three of Landa's guards.


	16. Chapter 16: Putting Out Fire - Pt 2

**Chapter 16: Putting Out Fire (with Gasoline)  
** **Part 2**

· Hitler

· A bit of Nazi propaganda

· Friends lost

· More preparation

· A promise

· Conditional surrender

· Vengeance

· Exeunt Omnes

* * *

 _And now, the end is near,_  
 _And so I face the final curtain._  
 _My friends, I'll say it clear;_  
 _I'll state my case of which I'm certain._  
 _I've lived a life that's full -_  
 _I've travelled each and every highway._  
 _And more, much more than this,_  
 _I did it my way._

 **-** _ **My Way**_ **, Frank Sinatra**

Cold, selfish eyes.

That's the first thing Elsie noticed about Adolf Hitler, as he looked at her during the introductions.

It was as though the entire world had been paused. In this moment, she was staring into the face of a man whose life ambition was to annihilate an entire race of people for no reason besides his own ignorant idealism.

And she had to sit behind him.

Oh, if only she had a gun.

Screw Aldo. He wasn't there. He didn't have to look into the back of this man's head. He hadn't been given the perfect chance to kill the person who deserved it like no one else did.

But she would have to wait.

Acting now would mean ruining their entire plan. She would just have to sit and bear it; like always.

The film had started and, as Elsie soon found, wasn't particularly engaging if you weren't a member of the Nazi-Germany populace at whom it was directed.

Elsie watched as the hero, Fredrick Zoller, played by, well, Fredrick Zoller, reassured his love interest, a blonde and busty young German girl, that he would one day return, (and, Elsie guessed, have many, many Aryan children who would grow up fascists like their dear Uncle Adolf).

As the movie progressed into action that mainly involved Fredrick taking out many American soldiers with his trusty sniper rifle, Elsie spotted Donny leaving his seat.

Debating whether or not she should leave yet, Elsie's mind was made up for her as the fuehrer rose from his seat and told Goebbels that he would return shortly.

So, while Hitler took a brief intermission, Elsie was stuck watching her date on the big screen.

Glancing at the young war-hero seated beside her, she noticed his expression; hand to his mouth as though deeply contemplating his actions whilst he was forced to relive them once again, cringing at each shot he took in the film and reconnecting it to the real shots he had fired during his ordeal.

"Are you alright?" Elsie was surprised to hear herself say.

He tore his eyes away from the scene on the screen and forced a small smile.

Feeling as though she were unable to control her actions, she extended a comforting hand and placed it on his. He seemed grateful for the gesture of compassion.

In that moment, she saw him for who he really was: just a kid. A kid who had the misfortune of being raised to hate and to kill.

Hitler returned moments later, reclaiming his seat and proceeding to watch the film with an earnest expression, laughing every time an American was shot.

Shortly after, Donny re-entered the cinema, half-walking, half-jogging back to his row before trying to get Omar's attention. Elsie followed Omar's progress as he attempted to get past the seated Nazi generals, but was feeling too anxious to laugh as he tripped and fell onto two of them.

The moment the pair of Basterds began making their way down the aisle, towards the exit, Donny glanced up at her.

It was time.

* * *

Utivich pulled his coat tightly around him.

"What's wrong? Are ya cold? Why don't you go and ask one of those kraut guards down there if they'll lend you one of their jackets?" Hirschberg grinned, though he was absolutely freezing, too.

Stifled chuckles came out of the darkness on either side of them on the rooftop; Kagan, Sackowitz and Zimmerman.

"Shut up, will you?" Utivich whispered back, "You're gonna blow our cover."

"Too late for that," said a voice behind them.

Before they could lift their weapons, their hands were tightly bound and their field of vision cut off as black bags were placed over their heads.

"What the fuck is this?!" Hirschberg yelled as he struggled against his binds.

"Das ist vat happens when American schwein try to interfere," one of the captors replied in a crude mix of German and English, delivering him a swift kick to the stomach.

Each of the Basterds were taken down from the rooftop and brought to the street below, in front of the cinema. Already there were Aldo, who had been given the same treatment as the others, and Colonel Landa, who seemed particularly pleased with himself.

"Finally, I see all of you together at last. Well, with the exception of two or three, but this is just as good," Landa grinned.

Whilst Aldo remained standing, held by two of Landa's guards, the other five Basterds were forced to their knees.

"What are your orders, sir?" one of the guards asked.

"Put that one," he pointed to Utivich, "in the back of the truck with Lieutenant Raine here. Dispose of the rest."

He gave these orders deliberately in English.

"You Jerry-bangin', Lindberg-lickin', motherfuckin' yellow-coward piece of fuckin' shit!" Aldo shouted at him.

Four stifled gunshots sounded.

Struggling with all his might, kicking out at the men who held him, Utivich was dragged towards the truck nearby. As he was forced to sit down on the cold, hard metal seats in the back, he felt a gun muzzle pressed against his temple.

"Stop struggling or you will end up like your friends," a voice ordered.

He became still, breathing shakily out of anger, rather than fear.

There was further commotion as someone else was forced into the truck.

"That you Utivich?"

"Lieutenant Raine?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"Sir, do you know happened to the others? Elsie? Donny? Omar?"

"No, I do not."

* * *

Adjusting the pressure-triggered gun on his wrist, Donny watched as Elsie took Hugo's knife from the strap on her thigh. She sliced through the fabric of her dress, tearing off the remainder of the bottom material so that it now fell just short of her knees, then kicked off her heels, throwing away the silk shawl that she had been using to hide the bullet-wound scar on her arm.

"Alright, what's the plan?" she asked, sliding the knife back into its holder.

Both men were giving her odd looks.

"What? You try running around in heels and a dress."

Omar shrugged and began fishing through the nearby trashcan until he came across a champagne glass.

"Hey Else, can I talk to ya for a minute?" Donny asked, as he stared down at the gun on his wrist, flexing his arm to make sure that the device was properly secured.

"Sure."

He motioned that they should go somewhere a little more private; though, in a public bathroom, their options were quite limited.

Omar watched as they went into a cubicle, then busied himself with filling the glass with water from the tap.

"What's up?" Elsie asked as she leant back against the cubicle wall, hands behind her back.

Donny lapsed into quiet thought.

His ultra-serious expression was causing a smile to flicker across Elsie's lips, but she held it back.

"I shoulda told you this ages ago," he began.

"You're into men, aren't you?" she said with pseudo-disappointment, before smiling broadly and laughing through her nose.

He scowled at her.

"I ain't kiddin' around."

Elsie managed to regain her composure, straightening up her dress and clearing her throat. She looked up at him with a mock-serious expression.

When she realized that he actually _was_ having trouble getting out what it was that he wanted to say, she furrowed her brow.

Finally, he looked her square in the eyes and said;

"Elsie, I love you. I always have. Since the day I first saw you, standing under that apple tree all cut-up and dirty. I loved you when you were standing by my side, shooting down krauts. I know I love you more than Stiglitz ever could have. Don't look at me like that, 'cause it's true. And I want you to know that, when all this is over, I'll still love you; even if I'm dead."

Elsie stood speechless, cheeks flushed pink, tears glittering in her eyes. She looked away for a moment to compose herself. It was all too much tonight, with the good byes and confessions. She took a deep breath.

"Well, it's about time," she finally replied, throwing her arms around his neck, having to stand on her tip-toes in order to do so.

"Whoa, careful of the gun," he said, moving his arm out of the way to make sure that she didn't accidentally set off the device.

He carefully placed his hands in the small of her back and pulled her closer.

She buried her face in his broad chest.

"I love you too, you big idiot."

He gave her a crooked smile.

It felt right this time. No little voice in the back of her head told her otherwise. This was how it was meant to go – she saw that now. She raised her head and looked up at him; her green eyes big and innocent (though he knew better).

He leaned forward and kissed her. He wasn't sure if she'd be ready for it, Stiglitz's death still fresh in both their minds, but he wasn't about to die without fulfilling the one wish he'd had since they'd first found her in the orchard all those months ago. She seemed in much the same mind, her arms tightening around his neck. As they broke the kiss, she paused and rested her forehead against his, eyes closed, letting the moment last as long as she could. Donny hugged her tightly one last time, and felt his chest tighten at the thought of this being their last moment together. He planted a kiss on top of her head and guided her back out.

"Alright, what's the plan?" Omar asked when the pair finally emerged from the cubicle.

"Okay," Donny began, getting straight back into action and throwing off his black suit jacket, "So we punch out those goons, take their machine guns and burst in there blasting!"

"That's the plan?" Elsie asked.

"That's about it," he nodded.

She caught something flicker in his eyes, but it was too brief for her to interpret what it meant.

"I don't know what's keeping the lieutenant. I didn't see him in the cinema. Else, wanna go check it out?" he asked without looking at her.

Her gut instinct was telling her to refuse, but she ignored it, a decision she would later regret.

"Yeah, alright. But don't go killing anyone without me!"

As she disappeared out the door, Omar turned back to Donny. They had both discovered earlier that Aldo had already been captured, and therefore knew that they would be carrying out the rest of the mission alone.

"Why'd you do that?" Omar asked.

"There oughta still be a guard or two in the lobby. She doesn't have to be here when all this goes down."

Omar nodded. He understood.

* * *

The lobby was completely deserted; it was almost eerie.

Elsie noticed that bars had been placed in the handles of the doors to the cinema and presumed that it had been the work of Aldo. But if he was still there, why hadn't he gone up to meet them?

She took a minute to observe the area, and then remembered the room Aldo had mentioned the Colonel taking von Hammersmark into. Turning towards it, she noticed the door was slightly ajar.

She pushed it the rest of the way open and saw von Hammersmark lying dead on the ground. Leaning forward a little to try and gather what had happened, she noticed bruises around the actress's neck.

So someone had finally had enough of the woman, it seemed.

Something squeaked from behind her, like shoes moving across a marble surface. She turned around and saw two guards standing in the doorway, guns in hand, but not looking as though they were going to shoot her.

"Is this the one that he was talking about, do you think?" one said to the other.

"I think so. Let's take her and find out," the other replied.

"Take me where?" Elsie asked with budding anger.

The guards seemed surprised that she could understand them.

"Cécille Amour?"

She didn't reply, but her defiant look gave her away. The men bustled in and grabbed her; one tying her hands behind her back whilst the other put a black bag over her head.

Talk about déjà vu.

* * *

"Do you control the nicknames that your enemies bestow upon you? 'Aldo the Apache' and 'The Little Man'?"

The voice was muffled because of the bag, but Elsie recognized it immediately.

"And, oh, look who is here, just in time."

The bag was pulled off of her head, revealing the empty restaurant around them; one that looked terribly familiar. Sitting at a small table in front of her, were Colonel Landa, Aldo and Utivich; the latter two both with their hands still bound.

"Won't you please join us?" Landa invited, as one of the guards drew up a chair for her.

Elsie slowly approached the table and took a seat.

In the center of the table sat a black telephone and, to its right, was a bottle of wine and three wine glasses.

She frowned and glanced from Landa to the two Basterds beside her. They seemed just as surprised to see her, as she was to see them.

"I had a couple of my men stay back for the very reason that you might decide to go looking for your lieutenant here. I told them to keep an eye out for a young blonde woman in a dark blue dress. Not very specific, but it seems it did well enough."

"I suppose the 'blonde hair' thing doesn't really narrow it down much, does it? What with the whole 'perfect race' thing and all," Elsie replied.

Aldo smirked at her and looked back at the Colonel.

"Still fond of hostility, I see."

"Still fond of black-bagging people and removing them against their will, I see."

Now Utivich was smiling too.

Landa sighed, as though all he wanted was a friendly conversation but Elsie was ruining his attempts at one. He turned his attention to Aldo.

"Where're the rest o' my men? Where's Bridget von Hammersmark?" Aldo asked.

"Well, let's just say that she got what she deserved," Landa replied.

Elsie thought back to only moments earlier, when she had stumbled upon von Hammersmark's body. She pictured Landa leaping onto the actress and strangling her to death. He was such a small man, she wouldn't have thought he possessed the necessary strength to do such a thing.

"And when you purchase friends like Bridget Von Hammersmark," he went on, "you get what you pay for."

Elsie had to agree with that, but all the same, the woman hadn't really deserved such a slow and violent end. Maybe more of a quick shot to the head.

"Now, as far as your _paesanos_ , Sergeant Donowitz and Private Omar-"

"How you know our names?" Aldo interrupted.

Colonel Landa looked offended by the question.

"Lieutenant Aldo, if you don't think that I wouldn't interrogate every single one of your swastika-marked survivors, we simply aren't operating on the level of mutual respect I assumed."

"No, I guess not," Aldo said with an amused expression.

"And as far as young Elsie here goes, we met quite a while ago; before she became the sole female member of your little group."

Elsie glared at him, recalling the event in detail; the cold-blooded execution of the Jewish family hiding in her wine-cellar, the murder of her grandparents and the destruction of her house.

"Now, back to the whereabouts of your two Italian saboteurs. As of this moment, both Omar and Donowitz should be sitting in the very seats we left them in. Double-zero 23 and double-zero 24, if my memory serves. Explosives still around their ankles, still ready to explode."

Aldo noticed Elsie close her eyes and turn her head away. She had almost forgotten about the explosives.

"And your mission, some would call it terrorist plot," Landa continued, "as of this moment, is still a go."

"That's a pretty exciting story," Aldo said, still looking amused, "What's next? _Eliza on the Ice_?"

Elsie snorted.

"However," Landa told them, ignoring their childish behavior, "All I have to do is pick up this phone here and inform the cinema and your plan is kaput."

"If they're still here and if they're still alive, and that's one big 'if', there ain't no way you're going to take them boys without setting off them bombs," Aldo informed him.

The Colonel looked at Elsie.

"They're still alive", she said quietly, then added, "But not for long."

"This is your plan," Landa said, "Therefore, I cannot be blamed for any casualties that may occur from your side."

"Just the millions of others that _weren't_ included in our plan, right?" Elsie spat.

"Back to what I was saying, if I don't pick up this phone right here and make a call, you would get Hitler, you would get Goebbels, you would get Göring and you would get Bormann. And you need all four to end the war. And if you get all four, you end the war...tonight."

Landa grabbed two of the glasses on the table and proceeded to fill them with wine from the bottle, then repeated the action with the third glass.

"So, let's discuss the prospect of ending the war tonight", he said whilst doing this, "So the way I see it, since Hitler's death, or possible rescue, rests solely on my reaction, if I do nothing it's as if I'm causing his death even more than yourselves. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I guess so," Aldo agreed, with mild-interest in what Landa was getting at with all this.

"How about you, Utivich?" Landa asked, putting a glass of wine down in front of the bemused Basterd.

"I guess so, too."

"And Miss. Marigold?"

Elsie cringed at the sound of her real surname.

"Sure."

Landa placed the second glass of wine in front of Aldo and then was about to put the third glass in front of Elsie, but hesitated mid-action.

"As I recall, you aren't a big fan of wine. What was it you said, 'I don't really drink the stuff'?"

"You know what," Elsie replied, "Right about now I could drink just about anything."

Landa nodded and placed the glass in front of her. But seeing as all of their hands were bound, neither of them could touch their drinks anyway.

"I have no intention of killing Hitler and killing Goebbels and killing Göring and killing Bormann, not to mention winning the war single-handedly for the Allies, only later to find myself standing in front of a Jewish tribunal."

"No, I suppose you wouldn't want that," Elsie quipped.

Landa continued to ignore her comments.

"If you want to win the war tonight, we have to make a deal."

The three Basterds looked at one another, before turning their attention back to Landa.

"What kind of deal?" Aldo asked. It really was their only option; to humour the death-dealer before them.

"The kind that you wouldn't have the authority to make," Landa told him with a touch of arrogance, "However, I'm sure this mission of yours has a commanding officer. A general. I'm betting for... OSS would be my guess."

Neither Aldo, Utivich nor Elsie replied, giving him his answer.

"Oooh, that a bingo!" he exclaimed.

Elsie raised her eyebrows and bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from laughing. Noticing her expression, Landa looked to the other two.

"Is that how you say it? 'That's a bingo'?"

"You just say 'bingo'," Aldo told him.

"Bingo! How fun," Landa grinned like a kid, then remembered himself and cleared his throat, "But I digress. Where were we? Yes. Make a deal."

So while Landa connected with the OSS via a two-way radio, discussing what he called 'the terms of his conditional surrender', the three Basterds were cut loose.

Aldo remained in his seat, watching as Landa paced back and forth whilst he enthusiastically negotiated with the American General. Elsie and Utivich stood a little way behind him, leaning against the restaurant wall, sipping their wine. Elsie had only just realized that she wasn't wearing any shoes. And that she was freezing without her shawl and the lower portion of her dress. She hugged herself and rubbed her hands up and down her arms to try and warm up.

A jacket suddenly found its way to her shoulders.

She turned and smiled at Utivich.

"Thanks."

"So, how did you end up here?" he asked, "I thought you were in the actual cinema."

"I was", she told him, "Donny asked me to go find Lt. Raine."

It suddenly struck her that he had done this on purpose.

"Fuck," she muttered.

"What?"

"Never mind," she told him. "What happened to the others that were supposed to be with you?"

He hesitated before answering, staring down at his glass as his swirled its contents around.

"He had them all shot."

Elsie put her head back against the wall and stared up at the ceiling. She was having a lot of trouble thinking clearly.

Glancing over at Landa, she managed to catch snippets of what he was saying; something about 'Nantucket Island' and 'receiving the Congressional Medal of Honor'.

She was struck with a sudden dizziness, squeezing her eyes shut a couple of times and putting her hand to her face.

"Are you okay?" Utivich asked, but she didn't reply, quickly moving towards the nearest seat; one next to Aldo.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I don't know," she told him. For a second, she thought she was going to be sick, but the feeling slowly passed.

Aldo was frowning at her with concern.

She leaned back in the chair, "Just tell me when all this is over."

* * *

The drive to the border between the German and American lines was a bumpy one.

As the three remaining Basterds sat handcuffed in the back of the truck, this time without the bags over their heads, Elsie sat wide-eyed, staring at the floor.

She was thinking about what she had left behind; Donny, Omar, the burning cinema, not to mention a normal life. But despite all of that, it was almost worth it, if only just to see the end of this whole thing.

The truck came to a halt. They had reached their own lines.

One of Landa's men, presumably the man that been driving, pulled open the canvas that acted as a cover for the back of the truck and climbed up to help each prisoner down.

Landa stood below, smiling as each person hopped out. Elsie was last, shaking off the German soldier's helping hand and jumping down on her own. She observed the surrounding forest calmly, glad to still be wearing Utivich's jacket in the icy weather; but she remained without footwear, after refusing a pair of shoes that Landa had so kindly offered.

The SS officer began walking away from the truck, the others following, before coming to a stop a few meters into the woodland.

"Hermann, uncuff them," he ordered.

The soldier obeyed, first releasing Aldo, then Utivich and finally Elsie. Landa passed Aldo his pistol and a small knife, then held up a pair of handcuffs.

"I'm officially surrendering myself over to you, Lieutenant Raine. We're your prisoners."

Aldo took the handcuffs from him and hung them on his pocket.

"What 'bout my knife?" he asked.

Chuckling, Landa reached into his jacket and pulled out Aldo's bowie knife. Aldo took it with a grin.

"Thank-you very much," he said as he slid it into the top of his pants.

He took the handcuffs from his pocket, gun still in hand, and threw them to Utivich.

"Utivich, cuff the Colonel's hands behind his back," he ordered.

"Is that really necessary?" Landa asked.

Aldo glanced at Elsie and they exchanged smirks.

"I'm a slave to appearances," he told him.

In one swift movement, without so much as glancing away from Landa, he shot the driver.

Passing the smaller knife to Utivich, he ordered him to scalp the dead man. Utivich took the knife with a grin and set to work.

Landa stared at Aldo, mouth open in shock.

"Are you mad? What have you done? I made a deal with your General for that man's life!"

"Yeah, they made that deal," Aldo reasoned, "but they don't give a fuck 'bout him. They need you."

"You'll be shot for this!"

"Nah, I don't think so. More like chewed out. I've been chewed out before," Aldo assured him, "You know, Utivich, Elsie and I heard that deal that you made with the brass. End the war tonight? I'd make that deal. How about you Utivich, you make that deal?"

"I'd make that deal," Utivich said as he sliced through the driver's scalp.

Aldo looked at Elsie.

"It's a good deal," she nodded, hands on her hips.

"It's a damn good deal," Aldo agreed, then turning back to Landa, "And that pretty little nest that you feathered for yourself? Well, if you're willing to barbecue the whole High Command, I suppose that's worth certain considerations. But I do have one question..."

Landa was beginning to look terrified.

Elsie was beginning to see where this was going. Her eyes lit up and her mouth twisted into a sadistic smile.

"When you get to your little place on Nantucket Island, I imagine you're goin' ta take off that handsome-lookin' SS uniform of yours. Ain't you?"

Landa stared at him, speechless. His mouth gave a nervous twitch.

"That's what I thought," Aldo nodded, "Now that, I can't abide. What about you Utivich, can you abide it?"

"Not one damn bit, sir," he replied, removing the completely severed scalp of the driver.

"Else," Aldo said, taking out his hunting knife and holding it out to her.

She stared at it.

"Really?"

"Ye-ep. I think you deserve to; bastard did kill your grandfolk."

Elsie looked at Landa with a delighted grin. The color drained from his face.

"If it's all the same, sir," she told Aldo, politely refusing his weapon with a simple gesture of her hand, "I brought my own."

She slid Hugo's knife from its hidden sheath, surprising the Colonel, who hadn't bothered having his men search her too thoroughly. Recognizing the engraved blade, Aldo nodded respectfully. He looked back at the trembling Nazi officer.

"I mean, if I had my way, you'd wear that goddamn uniform for the rest of your pecker-suckin' life. But I'm aware that ain't practical. I mean, at some point, you're goin' to have ta take it off. So, we're gonna give you somethin' you can't take off."

Aldo and Utivich hauled Colonel Landa to the ground, holding him down as Elsie approached with the knife.

And as she made the first cut, with Landa screaming and Aldo smiling at her like a proud father, she realized that although she had vowed to kill the man, maybe this would prove to be even more satisfying.


	17. Chapter 17: Epilogue

**Epilogue**

It was a rare, warm day in Maynardville, Tennessee; at least for this time of year in the small, southern-American town. Elsie was stretched out on a sun-chair, taking the opportunity to soak up as much of the sun's rays as she could. In a cradle beside her, shaded by a white parasol, the newborn baby boy kept himself amused by playing with his tiny feet. He had been named after his late grandfather, Albert, which technically made him Albert Marigold the Third.

Albert had been born a few weeks earlier, somewhat of a surprise to his mother, who had only become aware of her condition after arriving back on American soil. It had explained the cramps, nausea and dizziness that she been experiencing, but all the same, after doing the math, she couldn't figure out why she hadn't noticed earlier. By the time she had even considered the possibility, she had been almost five months pregnant, barely showing on her malnourished frame.

When the war in Europe was finally declared a victory to the Allies, Aldo, Elsie and Utivich had spent a week at the OSS base in France before shipping back to England, where an America-bound ship awaited them. They spent almost a month in England whilst papers were organized, medals awarded and soldiers were honorably discharged. Elsie too had been awarded honorary medals to recognize her efforts alongside the Basterds. But medals meant nothing to her. What she wanted was her friends back by her side.

They arrived at the New York port ten days later, parting ways as Utivich was greeted by his family. Elsie had watched as his sister and mother pulled him into a hug, their sobs audible as they held him. He gave her one last little wave as she passed him.

Aldo and Elsie had discussed what they would do when they arrived back in the States, but Elsie really had nowhere to go. She had sold her grandparents' land before leaving France, acquiring a decent amount of money; yet she was having trouble imagining herself starting over somewhere new.

That's when Aldo offered for her to stay with him. She had accepted his offer almost immediately.

Arriving on his property which was nestled comfortably between two mountains, Elsie became reacquainted with Aldo's wife, Catherine. Catherine had watched Elsie a number of times when she was just a small child, while Aldo and Elsie's father had gone out on 'business runs'. Elsie's had loved to play with their son and daughter, who were now well and truly grown up and moved out, with families of their own.

As it reached mid-afternoon, Elsie looked up from the newspaper she was reading and glanced over at her little boy, who smiled at his mother with a kind of sweet innocence that she hadn't seen in a long time. With his blonde hair and blue eyes, he looked a lot like his father, acting as a constant reminder of the events that had taken place in France.

But today she had the opportunity for some well-earned rest and relaxation, especially since Catherine had gone to see friends in Memphis and Aldo had left a few hours ago to 'take care of a few errands', as he had described it.

Making sure that the fly-net was secured over little Albert's crib, Elsie lay back and closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun as it fell across her white sundress. She slowly drifted into a peaceful doze; a nice change to her usual nightmare-filled sleep. It wasn't all bad, though; her being startled awake by the horrific dreams often coincided with Albert's cries for a diaper change or some form of nourishment. And since he was a good excuse for not getting enough sleep, she rarely received any awkward questions about the dark circles around her eyes.

A short while later, she was woken by the sound of car-tires crunching across the dirt road that served as Aldo's driveway. Aldo stepped out of his car, dressed in clothes similar to what he had often worn as a Basterd. He paused, surveying his front yard with his hands on his hips, before shutting his door and walking towards Elsie.

"'Ey, Else. You awake?" he asked.

She opened her eyes, squinting one closed against the glaring sun, and sat up to greet him.

"Sure. I was just catching some shut-eye while I had the chance."

"So you should. But I need to tell you something. Somethin' kinda important."

Elsie grabbed the glass of lemonade from the small table beside her and stood up, taking a few mouthfuls of it.

She didn't drink alcohol anymore, not only because it conjured up too many bad memories, but also because she had been drinking whilst pregnant without knowing it. And since she was breastfeeding, Albert certainly didn't need any _more_ alcohol introduced into his system.

"I asked Catherine ta stay with a friend for a couple a days, so it'd just be you'n me today. Make things easier, ya know."

"What are you talking about?" Elsie frowned, growing uneasy.

"Well..." Aldo sighed and turned his head to look back at the car.

Elsie dropped her lemonade when she saw who was getting out of the open car-door, the glass shattering in the dirt by her feet.

Donny's movements were slow, careful. He stepped out onto the lawn and began walking towards Elsie with a very prominent limp.

Her first reaction was to burst into tears, collapsing back onto the sun lounge as her legs became weak. This wasn't really happening. She was hallucinating.

Then she felt a big familiar hand on her shoulder.

"Else?"

Slowly opening her eyes, she raised her head and saw that it really was him standing before her. She sprang to her feet and embraced him tightly, savoring the moment for as long as she could. Donny let her take her time, knowing that it was as hard on her and it was on him; probably even more so.

He could feel her tears soaking through his shirt.

"What the fuck?" she murmured into his chest. He smiled. Same old Elsie.

Grabbing her gently by the shoulders, he moved her back so he could get a proper look at her. She hadn't changed a bit since he had last seen her, that fateful night in the cinema, though she looked much healthier, like she was finally eating real food again.

"I don't understand," she said.

"Let's go inside," Aldo suggested, "He can explain it better than I can."

Taking a deep breath, Elsie slowly managed shook herself out of the state of shock that had engulfed her and turned to get Albert. Donny had taken a step towards the house when he turned to see what Elsie was doing. When he saw her lift the baby out of its crib, he was a little shocked himself.

"You had a kid?" he asked.

"You're asking _me_ questions?" she replied, bustling towards the house and towards Aldo, who was holding the door open for them.

Donny remained still for a moment as he let this development sink in. Aldo hadn't mentioned anything on the ride over. But it didn't change the way he felt about her, regardless of who the father was. Silently, he limped after her.

* * *

"Albie sleepin'?" Aldo asked Elsie as she finally joined them at the small, hand-built dining table.

"Yeah."

"I still can't believe that you had a kid," Donny said.

"I still can't believe that you're fuckin' alive," she replied, with a sharp edge to her voice. She stopped and took a deep breath to calm the turbulent emotions that she found herself experiencing.

"Yeah, about that... Maybe I oughta start from the beginning."

Elsie nodded, biting back another remark as she took a seat.

"I suppose you know that I told you to go lookin' for the Lieutenant on purpose."

Another nod.

"There was no way in hell I was lettin' you die in there. After everything that had happened, I knew I had to make sure that you got out alive. But after Omar and me carried out our plan, shootin' Hitler and all, I realized that there was no point in me dyin' too. I had to be with you. No matter what. So I took off the dynamite and threw it into the bunch of Nazis that were trying to escape, just so it would still do its job, you know. Then I got the fuck outta there. Told Omar to, as well. But he decided to stay behind and make sure the job got finished. As you can see," he gestured to his leg, "I didn't make it out of the cinema far enough to avoid the explosion, and when I woke up, I was in a hospital. Both legs broken, 2nd and 3rd degree burns on my back, arms and legs. Mild concussion from bein' thrown into the air. But I was alive; only I didn't know if that was a permanent thing or not. I was shifted from hospital to hospital in France for a couple of weeks, then I got shipped back to England. You guys had already left by the time I got there. Few months later I was shipped back here. I sent Aldo a letter to tell him what had happened-"

"Before you 'ave a go at me," Aldo said, holding his hands up to Elsie in defense as she turned to him angrily, "He told me not to tell you, in case he didn't make it."

"It was touch and go for a while. I caught some infection in one of the hospitals. I didn't want you to have to go through losin' someone again. You'd been through enough shit as it was," Donny explained to her, "But I managed to pull through. And as soon as I knew I was goin' to make it, I made up my mind to come and find you, so I could do this-"

He took something out of his pocket and placed it in front of her. It was a small box. She stared down at it.

"Open it," he told her.

Hesitating, glancing from him, to Aldo, then back to the box, she reached down and slowly removed the lid. Reaching inside, she pulled out a beautiful antique ring.

"It was your mama's," Aldo told her, "She gave it to my wife to give to you when she found out she was sick. I thought Donny could probably make more use of it than I ever could. My wife's already got a ring."

"Elsie. I know how much you hate your last name, so I was wondering if you wanted to use mine instead," Donny grinned.

Elsie slipped the jewelry over her ring-finger on her left hand, then held the hand out in front of her face and waggled the finger around to admire it. Then promptly burst into tears again.

"Stupid fuckin' pregnancy hormones," she growled, wiping furiously at her cheeks. She turned back to Donny, who was eagerly awaiting her response. "Of course I'll fucking marry you, you big idiot."

She moved over to him and carefully positioned herself on his lap, stopping to check his expression for any signs on discomfort, before putting her hands around his neck and kissing him.

"I think you should save that 'til the weddin' night," Aldo advised them, but neither of them were listening, too preoccupied to care.

"I can't believe you're alive," Elsie muttered, gazing into his eyes.

"Well, you better start believing," Donny smiled, "'cos you ain't marrying no ghost."

Just as she was about to kiss him again, crying sounded from the nursery.

"I can't believe you have a kid," he said again.

"Will you shut the fuck up about that already?" she told him, smacking him in the chest with the back of her hands as she stood up. He smiled.

"It's just weird to think of you as a ma," Donny mused, getting to his feet to join her.

Moving considerably slower than Elsie, (though he was hoping that would go away once he had healed a bit more), by the time he reached the nursery she was already holding the baby, rocking him gently in her arms.

It was a wonder how the petite girl had gone from shooting and scalping German soldiers without remorse, to cradling a baby like delicate china; the transformation was astonishing.

"What's its name?" Donny whispered, gently brushing his index finger across the baby cheek.

"He," Elsie corrected him, " _His_ name is Albert; after my father and my grandfather."

"Albert," Donny repeated with a smile.

With the three standing close together, they looked the picture of a perfect family; albeit with a very, very strange backstory.

And though the kid wasn't his, Donny had already decided he would raise him as his own, hopefully along with a few more sons and daughters that were his. Little Albert was Elsie's son and in his eyes, that made him his son, too. Regardless of whom the father was; though he had a pretty good idea.

But Donny was wrong.

Elsie knew it, too, though she had guessed the same at first.

But, sometimes, when she looked down at the smiling baby, she caught a little hint of his real father. There was no evil glint in the baby's blue eyes, but Elsie swore there were times when his little grin looked almost… smug.

* * *

 **A/N:** So there we have it. This story has a special place in my heart, being both the only story I have ever actually completed, as well as being set in within my favorite film. I will still be going through the chapters and fixing up whatever errors I come across, but I'm happy to finally have them edited and posted it all. I have ideas for either one-shots or extra chapters, but I'll see how things go. I'd love to write a little more about Elsie and Donny's relationship, especially now that they're finally together.

Thanks to those who read the whole thing! I look forward to hearing your thoughts. Until then xx


	18. Chapter 18: One-Shot - Schadenfreude

I'm humoring myself by writing a bunch of short one-offs, tacked on to the end of the main story. These will depict AU scenarios, little tastes of what came after the main events, as well as 'what might have beens'. If anyone has any specific requests for what they're interested in seeing, by all means let me know. I'm having a ball writing these.

* * *

 _ **Schadenfreude**_

– _In which Elsie introduces a father to his son –_

"Albert. Can't say I'm fond of the name."

Hellstrom lit up a cigarette as he gazed down at the baby, the fingers of his free hand gently caressing the sleeping boy's cheek. "Albert Marigold…"

"Actually, it's Albert Donowitz."

Elsie smiled as the Nazi officer's face twisted with disgust. But as with most of his expressions, the transformation was subtle and delivered mostly from the eyes.

"Is he aware who the father is?"

"He thinks it's Hugo."

Hellstrom chuckled and leaned back in his chair, picking up his stein of beer. He took his hand away from his son for a moment, to pluck the cigarette from his lips and take a mouthful of the amber liquid.

"Oh yes, Hugo Stiglitz." He glanced back down at the baby. "I don't know. Doesn't look like a traitor to me."

The waiter arrived back with their meals, which the Major had kindly taken upon himself to order, prior to her arrival.

"Apple strudel?" the waiter asked, glancing from one patron to the other.

Hellstrom stared at Elsie, waiting for a response. When her eyes finally flicked over to him, failing to mask her hatred, he chuckled and directed, "Over here."

She looked down at the plate that was placed down in front of her. Salad. Just like last time. She picked up her coffee and took a sip, fighting the urge to throw it in his face. He didn't want to risk getting any on the baby.

"I suppose it would have been difficult to determine the father," he went on once they were alone again, "They did call you 'Die Juden Hure'."

He turned back to Albert, who had just begun to stir, waving Elsie off as she moved to attend to him. She watched him take the baby from his stroller, cigarette still dangling from his lips. He held him up and looked him over as if he were inspecting a uniform.

"No, not a trace of Jew in him. Blonde hair, blue eyes. The fuehrer would have been proud of this one."

He placed a kiss on Albert's forehead before setting him down on his knee, balancing him in the crook of his arm. He chuckled at Elsie's look of disgust.

"Donowitz," he thought aloud, reaching for his glass and taking another mouthful of beer, as if to wash the Jewish name from his mouth, "I almost would have preferred Stiglitz. At least the boy would have been raised by a German."

"You're right. Maybe I should hit your parents up for some advice. After all, they did such a wonderful job with you."

Hellstrom chuckled again before gazing down at the child on his lap.

"My son, raised by a Jew," he muttered, unable to believe the irony.

It was Elsie's turn to smile. "Yeah. Karma's a bitch."

Hellstrom's eyes flicked back up to meet hers, holding her gaze for a moment.

"Speaking of," she went on, "How _did_ it feel when Hugo blew your balls off with his Walther?"

Without skipping a beat, the German Major replied, "I imagine much like it did when you found his bullet-riddled corpse at the bottom of the stairs."

Elsie's breath caught in her throat as she recalled the night she had lost the man she loved.

"But as you say," Hellstrom smirked, "'Karma's a bitch'."

Elsie sat in silence for a long time, reminiscing on the events of those fateful few months in France.

"Hey?"

She looked up at Donny, catching his concerned look.

"You okay?" he asked.

She looked over at little Albert, still asleep in his stroller, then at the empty seat across from her. Donny plonked himself back into it, returning from the bathroom. The food had been served while he was away. Elsie looked down at her burger and fries, Donny's recommendation, here at his favorite Boston eatery.

He watched her brow furrow as she tried to fight off whatever bad memories had decided to present themselves today. He picked up his bottle of beer and took a swig of it, affectionately resting one of his huge hands on the baby's head as he slept.

"You know, we've been through alotta of shit, Else. I've seen every damn side of you. But I swear there are times I still don't know what's going through that head of yours."

She gave a soft snort, took a sip of her coffee, and replied, "That would make two of us."


End file.
